


Live While You Can

by Pretty_and_Devastating



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: 41st Timeline (The Magicians), Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bed-Wetting, Caretaking, Daddy Kink, Depression, Dom/sub, Finger Sucking, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Dom Eliot Waugh, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex Magic, Sub Quentin Coldwater
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretty_and_Devastating/pseuds/Pretty_and_Devastating
Summary: 25m Seeking RoommateUhm, hi. My name is Quentin. I really need a roommate. Like ASAP. My best friend moved out, she’s going to grad school in Los Angeles. How freaking cool is that? Fuck. Sorry. I’m sure you don’t care. Oh wait. Can you even swear on Craigslist? Is that against the rules or whatever? Anyway, like I said, I desperately need a roommate. I live in a 2 bedroom apartment in Harlem. Your rent would be 900 a month and we’d split the utilities.Here’s my phone number if you’re interested or want a tour or whatever: (XXX) XXX - XXXX(pls don’t be creepy)Edited on May 2nd, 9:32 AM: (Apparently this needs to be said, but being creepy includes sending me dick pics at 2am. Yes, I’m calling you out Dave. You woke up my dog. Fuck you. Oh wait, to everyone else, I forgot to mention I have a pup in my original post? So uh if you’re allergic, you probably won’t wanna live with me. His name is Teddy though and he's very cute!)
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 78
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Planning on splitting this massive fic into 4 sections. Welcome to part 1 (:

“This poor child. You need to save him.”

Eliot raised an eyebrow as he turned his attention over to Margo, who was sitting at her desk. 

“Explain?” He had just been lounging on her bed, feeling sorry for himself whilst Margo did some computer work for her job. His interest was slightly peaked, however, so he climbed off of the bed and walked over to his friend. 

“So I was on Craigslist,” she started to explain, but Eliot cut her off.

“You said you didn’t want to watch a movie because you had work to do,” he pointed out with a small pout.

“Oh shush, stop being so needy. I took a little break to go apartment hunting for you,” she continued. 

“Oh? What’d you find?”

“Read,” she grinned, nudging her laptop a bit in order to give Eliot a better view. One of his hands gripped the back of her chair as he leaned down a bit, resting his chin on Margo’s shoulder. He squinted his eyes slightly as he began to read the Craigslist ad displayed on her computer.

 **_25m Seeking Roommate_ **

_Uhm, hi. My name is Quentin._

“What kind of name is Quentin?”

“It’s even more tragic once you click on his profile and see his last name,” Margo grinned. “Now keep reading,” she poked his side. 

Eliot rolled his eyes, but obeyed because it was Margo. Disobeying Margo was just not allowed.

 _I really need a roommate._ _Like ASAP. My best friend moved out, she’s going to grad school in Los Angeles. How freaking cool is that? Fuck. Sorry. I’m sure you don’t care. Oh wait. Can you even swear on Craigslist? Is that against the rules or whatever? Anyway, like I said, I desperately need a roommate. I live in a 2 bedroom apartment in Harlem. Your rent would be 900 a month and we’d split the utilities._

“Does this boy just type every single thought that comes to mind?” Eliot laughed. It was sort of sweet. No, scratch that. It was incredibly sweet. A sweet, rambly boy -- Eliot’s favorite. 

He didn’t wait for Margo to nag him again to keep reading once again. 

_Here’s my phone number if you’re interested or want a tour or whatever: (XXX) XXX - XXXX_

_(pls don’t be creepy)_

_Edited on May 2nd, 9:32 AM: (Apparently this needs to be said, but being creepy includes sending me dick pics at 2am. Yes, I’m calling you out Dave. You woke up my dog. Fuck you. Oh wait, to everyone else, I forgot to mention I have a pup in my original post? So uh if you’re allergic, you probably won’t wanna live with me. His name is Teddy though and he’s very cute!)_

“Oh no,” Eliot’s eyes widened. 

“Oh yes,” Margo laughed.

Eliot was laughing now too. 

“He should have known. I mean, it _is_ Craigslist, after all,” he pointed out. 

Margo shrugged. “He seems like a good time to me. You’re meeting him for coffee tomorrow. 10 AM. At that little cafe we went to before we saw Kinky Boots a few weeks ago,” she told him simply.

His eyes widened.

“What the fuck, Margo?”

“What?” she turned her chin up a bit so she could put those big brown eyes of hers to work. “I don’t see the problem,” she told him innocently. 

“I don’t want to meet some random guy from Craigslist. I’m not _that_ desperate,” he said, tearing his gaze away from hers so he could look at the email again. “What if _he’s_ the creep? What if his email is just one big ploy to lure unsuspecting victims to his apartment so he can kill them?”

“That’s why I suggested the cafe. So you can feel him out first, make sure he’s not sketchy,” she explained. “It’s really not a big deal, El. But if you really don’t want to meet him, you can always take Todd up on his offer,” she suggested in a sing-song voice. 

He glared.

“How dare you even think for a second that I would live with _Todd_ ,” he responded in pure disgust.

“He’s not _that_ bad.”

“He’s on a bowling team, Bambi. _Bowling."_

“Okay, fine. You’re right,” she scrunched up her nose. “So come on, let’s pick out an outfit for tomorrow,” she added, her eyes full of delight. Dressing each other up was one of their favorite pastimes. The two of them almost transferred to FIT in order to be fashion designers. They met during undergrad at Hunter College and both of them were terribly bored of their majors. Eliot’s was art history (He had drunkenly picked it on a whim and was too lazy to change it) and Margo’s was media studies. They had big dreams, though. So why not fashion design? They could be bigger than Versace. Margo and Eliot -- the dream team.

However, their plans quickly changed when they soon realized that they had a bigger passion than fashion -- partying. Freshman year they lived in the dorms (Right down the hall from one another. It was incredibly convenient.), so throwing parties of their own wasn’t really possible, unless they invited 3 people max. However, during their sophomore year, they got an apartment of their own. Eliot argued that he couldn’t afford the gorgeous 2 bedroom with the perfect view of the city, but thankfully Margo’s very rich dad paid the rent, thinking it would get Margo to like him. It did not. The gesture was appreciated, though. Well, at least it was by Eliot, who was already in quite a bit of debt that made him feel sick to his stomach just thinking about. 

Their parties were pretty epic, to say the least. Their dealer and fellow classmate, Josh supplied quite the drugs that truly elevated their little events that they held on a monthly basis. Eliot soon realized he had a knack for cocktail making and coming up with elaborate little appetizers to serve. He really just loved hosting, and so did Margo. Therefore, on a whim, they decided why not open a restaurant? A classy little place they could call their own. So, Eliot ended up impulsively going abroad to Paris to get a culinary degree. Margo was more interested in the logistic side of it all, so she stayed back in NY and switched her degree to business. It was hard being apart, but it wasn't permanent. When the two of them were reunited again, they got a job together at a swanky steakhouse in downtown Manhattan. Margo was a hostess, and Eliot was the sous chef. It wasn't what their end goal by any means, but the process of opening up your own restaurant was quite slow and tedious. It was a work in progress, but they were getting there. 

“An outfit? Margo, this isn’t a date,” he raised an eyebrow. 

“So? You still need to look nice. Make a good impression. Prove you’re not a _creep_.”

Eliot ended up wearing one of his favorite outfits the following day to meet Mr. Quentin Coldwater. (Seriously, what a mouthful of a name that was. Poor kid.) He was wearing his favorite deep green button-down, with a vest and some black slacks. It was simple, but it made him feel good. 

He really needed this apartment. Finding a place to live in the city was a nightmare of a task. Either you found a decent looking place that surprisingly wasn’t the size of a shoebox, but it was in a bad location or you found your dream location, but the apartment itself had rent so high that the idea of being able to afford to eat more than once a day whilst living there was actually laughable.

The apartment Craigslist Boy was offering up was in a decent area and the rent wasn’t terrible. He could afford it. He wished he could stay at his old place, however. That unfortunately was out of the question, though. 

He had shared a gorgeous little apartment that he loved to pieces with his Bambi for quite some time. It had a great view, the neighbors were alright (Todd was a bit annoying, but Eliot definitely has had worse neighbors in the past), everything was perfect _._ The only real con was that the rent would go up slightly each year, but they always would renew their lease. _Always._

That was up until this past month when Margo had blurted out last minute just as their lease was about to renew that her boyfriend, Josh, (Yes, the very same recreational drug dealer Josh from undergrad that Eliot never in a million years would understand why Margo chose to be with. She was happy, though. That was all that mattered. Right?) had asked her to move in with him. 

Eliot was in shock, to say the least. He hadn’t gone a day without seeing her in _years_ since he had come back from Paris. Now he was suddenly expected to wake up without her? They had a _routine._ Now he was supposed to have his morning coffee _alone?_ Who would he make Eggs Benedict for on Sunday mornings? The very idea of it all made him feel like an extremely sad, lost puppy. 

He wanted to beg her to stay. It was pathetic, really. Fortunately for his pride, though, before he could even begin to plead, Bambi chimed in and started on a rant saying it was a ‘stupid idea’ and that she was going to tell Josh ‘no.’ She hated change just as much as him, but Eliot knew deep down inside that she wanted to take this next step with Josh. 

She loved him. 

Eliot had never been in love. He doubted he ever would get the honor. He would be a complete and utter idiot to pretend he didn’t know what it looked like, though. He could see what they meant to each other. 

So he told her no. 

The next day he easily found some very nice girls to take over their lease. 

He could’ve just stayed there and found a new roommate. It would have been more convenient. All his stuff was already there. The two of them had spent years decorating the place to make it a place that really felt like home. Margo even said she’d leave all her furnishings there. It just didn’t feel right, though. It was time for a fresh start -- A new chapter in his story.

God that sounded lame. 

If he ever said that out loud, Margo would surely laugh in his face. 

He smiled slightly as the sign of the cafe was now in his line of sight. He and Margo had only been here once, but it was a really sweet place. It felt really cozy. He loved it. 

He was just beginning to wonder if Quentin was here yet when he realized he had no idea what the guy even looked like. Shit. Maybe there would only be one lonely boy sitting there, holding up a sign that said ‘Quentin’ on it. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The cafe was pretty crowded and there seemed to be zero lonely boys in his line of sight. 

He chewed on his lower lip as he waited in the slightly too long line. It was moving pretty fast, though, so he couldn’t complain too much. He was admiring one of the blueberry scones in the glass display case when he suddenly heard someone clear their throat in an agitated sort of way. 

He looked up and quickly realized he was next in line. 

“Oh, sorry. My bad,” he told the man at the counter with an apologetic smile. 

The man did not seem to accept his apology. Rude.

“Order?”

“Just a small coffee. No cream or sugar,” he said. “Oh! And one of those blueberry scones,” he added, as the worker turned to grab a cup for his coffee. 

A few moments later a steaming cup of coffee and a small paper bag with a scone were being handed to him after he had paid. 

“Thank you -” his voice trailed off as he searched for the man’s name tag. He squinted a bit as he read the small lettering. “-Penny,” he continued with a charming smile. 

The charm clearly did not work. 

Penny huffed and gestured for the next customer to come up and order.

Eliot got the hint.

Just as he was turning to leave he felt a strong body stumble into him. It was sort of a blur and he’s not really sure what had even happened. His scalding hot coffee nearly spilled on the boy, but it didn’t, thankfully. His scone on the other hand had not been saved. It was now on the floor, broken. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” Eliot apologized, for the second time within 10 minutes. Was this going to be a habit for him? He wasn’t even sure if it was hit fault this little collision had even occurred. 

“Fuck. No, I should be the sorry one. It’s my fault. I was distracted. Wasn’t looking where I was going,” the boy mumbled, leaning down to pick up Eliot’s broken scone. “I’ll buy you a new one,” he said a bit louder as he stood up, finally looking up for the first time.

Eliot’s breath hitched. A wave of something hit him. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, though.

Nostalgia?

Deja vu?

Whatever it was, Eliot tried to push it to the side as he looked into the pretty boy’s eyes. 

It was a struggle to look away.

Had they met before?

Probably not. 

There are tons of cute boys with long hair and sweet brown eyes in New York. 

Eliot was probably just confusing him with a one night stand of his in undergrad or something. 

Yeah, that's it. 

“Quentin, you’re such a dumbass,” Penny grumbled, walking over towards them with a new scone. “Here, sorry about him,” he sighed, handing the new scone to Eliot and taking the damaged one away.

“Get it together, Coldwater,” he glared, giving the boy a shove before heading back behind the counter. 

“Ow,” he grumbled, rubbing his arm. 

Poor baby. 

Eliot couldn’t help but grin as the realization set in. “I’m Eliot,” he blurted out. 

Quentin’s eyes widened. 

“O-oh,” is all he said as his cheeks flushed a gorgeous shade of light pink. 

Eliot could practically feel the panic radiating off of him. 

He was clearly embarrassed. It was one thing to have an awkward encounter with a stranger and never have to see them again. It was another to have an awkward encounter with a stranger and then realize you might have to _live_ with said stranger. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s just a scone, and I got a new one. Let's go sit down, yeah?” His voice was quiet and soothing, trying to calm the panicked boy down. 

He barely could make eye contact with him. He seemed to be resorting to trying to hide behind his long, pretty hair. It looked so silky and smooth. Eliot wanted to tug it. Gently, of course. 

Quentin stayed quiet for a moment, but he finally peaked up at him and nodded. 

Good boy, Eliot thought to himself. 

_No, stop that. He’s not yours._

“C’mon, there’s a booth over there,” he gestured to an empty one in the corner of the cafe. 

Once they sat down, Eliot frowned. “Oh wait, you don’t have a drink.”

“I’m kind of already hyped up on caffeine. Probably shouldn’t have anymore. I just got off my shift and we can have free coffee while we’re working,” he rambled, playing with the string of his black hoodie. 

Eliot felt slightly overdressed in comparison to Quentin’s casual attire, but it was fine.

“So I take it you work here?” he raised an eyebrow, putting two and two together. Penny knew him and he had said he just got off of work, so it was safe to assume this was his place of work. 

Quentin nodded again. “Your friend Margo suggested we meet at a cafe a few blocks away but their coffee is honestly shit. No offense if you like it there. Actually, yes offense, I said what I said,” he shrugged and Eliot wanted to laugh. 

He was too damn cute. 

Such a grumpy little thing.

He loved it. 

“So, you want to tell me about this spectacular apartment of yours?” he asked before taking a sip of his coffee. Damn, it was good. When he came here with Margo he only had some tea. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said, pushing some of his hair behind his ear, giving Eliot a better view of his face. He tried not to stare, but he desperately wanted to admire his strong jawline and incredibly long eyelashes. It was unfair, really. 

Quentin pulled out his phone and fiddled with it a bit. “I took some pictures of the place if you want to see,” he shyly said, handing his phone to Eliot. “It’s pretty nice. In a good area. Management is decent. Well, I mean. Marina is kind of scary, but she’s harmless. I think,” he said. 

Eliot scrolled through the photos. The place seemed lived in and homey. It was nice. It kind of reminded him of his old place. Well obviously his own apartment was much better decorated, but he didn’t mind taking on a new project. Also, this bedroom at Quentin’s place was way bigger than his old room. It even had a walk-in closet. He’d be an idiot not to move in. 

He couldn’t come off as too desperate, though (even though he certainly was). He needed to play it cool. Who knows, maybe Quentin didn’t even want him to move in?

“Your place seems lovely,” he told him genuinely as he handed the phone back. 

Quentin’s face brightened and Eliot swore his chest was going to burst. 

“Oh! I’m glad,” he smiled happily, the hair from behind his ear had fallen forward again. His reaction was just so genuine and pure. Either Eliot was the biggest sap in the world, or that truly was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his entire life. 

The smile was contagious. 

The two of them chatted for a little while longer as Eliot drank his coffee. They ended up splitting the scone. Quentin insisted he try the chocolate chip one instead next time. _Next time._ Eliot wouldn’t mind at all visiting the floppy-haired boy at work. Seeing him get all flustered as he took Eliot’s order would just make his day. 

“So tell me about this Dave guy you mentioned in your post?” Eliot teased as they walked down the street together. Quentin had mentioned that he needed to get going so he could feed his dog, and then he shyly went on to ask Eliot if he’d like to tag along to see the apartment. Well, he asked so nicely, it would have been impolite for Eliot to say no. 

Quentin let out a huff. 

“You’re not funny.”

“No. I’m not, but you certainly are. Margo thought you were a riot,” he said, poking his side gently. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know putting your phone number on Craigslist is just asking for trouble. But my email is a cluttered disaster and I just figured it would be easier,” he shrugged, dragging his feet a bit as he walked. Eliot had to slow his pace significantly to make sure he didn’t abandon the boy without meaning to. 

“So is Margo your girlfriend or something?” he blurted out, like he had been holding it in. 

Eliot’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“Margo most definitely is my other half, but my girlfriend? No. Never,” he said, draping his arm around Quentin in a casual manner. “She has her own boyfriend. She moved in with him. That’s why I need a new place,” he went on to explain. "She's letting me stay with her for now, but I don't know how many more nights I can take listening to their very loud, very vanilla sex," he laughed. Eliot didn't even need to look over at Quentin to know that he was blushing. 

_____

“Margo, my love! Guess who no longer is homeless!” he sang happily as he shut the front door behind him. 

Margo was currently sitting on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table as she scrolled through her phone. Her head popped up and she smiled widely. “I take it he wasn’t a serial killer?”

“Well, that’s still up for debate. He’s terribly cute though,” he sighed dreamily as he flopped down onto the couch beside her, resting his head on her shoulder. 

“Hey, you said yourself that this wasn’t a date,” she reminded him and he rolled his eyes. 

“I know. A man is allowed to pine, though,” he argued with a pout. 

“Hmm, true. I’ll let it slide. But just this once,” she murmured, running her hand through his tousled curls.

“So tell me about him?” she asked curiously.

He adjusted himself so he was now resting his head in her lap, his face looking right up at her. “He’s so cute, Bambi.”

“You said that already,” she mused. 

“I know, but it’s true. Really, he’s so damn adorable. He bumped into me after I ordered my coffee and he was all flustered and blushing,” he smiled, gazing up at her. 

“Shut up, you had a meet-cute with your new roommate?” 

“Maybe. Jealous?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and urged him to continue. “Go on.”

“Well, apparently he works at that cafe? One of the guys who works there -- this tall, buff guy who is incredibly hot,” he trails off. “Sorry, I digress. Anyway. He works at the cafe, and his coworker is kind of an ass to him. I feel bad. He seemed used to it, though,” he said with a frown before continuing.“We sat down. He showed me some pictures of the place. We shared a scone. I went back to his place. Met his landlord. Signed the lease. Got the key. Now I’m here,” he told her simply, trying to not make a big deal of the situation, although he secretly was still buzzing from it all. 

“I said tell me about _him,_ not giving me a vague plotline of your day,” she glared. 

He sighed overdramatically and rolled his eyes. “If I keep talking about him, I’m just going to ramble about how badly I want to daddy him and never let him go,” he told her flatly. “Besides, you’re meeting him tomorrow when you help me move in. So you can learn about him for yourself,” he added with a shrug and her eyes widened. 

“Oh hell no. I’m not helping you move furniture,” she argued. 

“I already called movers for that, relax. I need you to help me decorate though,” he pointed out obviously to her. 

_____

“I can’t believe your closet is bigger than mine,” Margo groaned, her tone full of pure jealousy.

“Poor Bambi,” he cooed, leaning up against his dresser as he looked around his new bedroom. It had only taken a few hours to finish moving everything in and get situated. This definitely could work. 

He honestly thought the entire process would take a lot longer, considering his cute roommate would probably be a massive distraction for him. However, Quentin had texted him and said someone called out of work last minute so he wouldn’t be home until later. It probably was for the best. 

The two of them spent the rest of the day lounging around, watching movies in the living room. Quentin’s dog, Teddy, an adorable mini American Shepherd, was cuddled up in Margo’s lap. He absolutely adored her. He didn’t blame him. They currently were in the middle of the second Harry Potter film when the front door opened. 

“Oh shit, is this Chamber of Secrets?” he practically was bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. Teddy jumped off the couch and ran over to greet him happily, his cute little tail wagging up a storm. Quentin grinned and crouched down to give him a pet. 

He was wearing an outfit pretty close to what he was wearing yesterday. Simple black jeans and a t-shirt, nothing special. Eliot wanted to rip them off of him. 

“Oh I like him,” Margo murmured to Eliot just as Quentin came over and sat down on the floor, close to Eliot’s feet, despite the fact that there was plenty of room on the couch. 

“You must be Quentin. I’m Margo,” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, practically purring. She was laying it on thick. Eliot gave her a glare, wanting her to cut it out. Don’t scare the boy, _please._

Luckily, Quentin was too engrossed in the film to even be phased. “Hey, nice to meet you,” he said, giving her a quick glance before looking back at the screen. “My best friend Julia says the fourth one is the best, but this one has always been my favorite,” he rambled, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them close to his body. 

“Mine too,” Margo chimed in. “Looks like we’ll have to be good friends then. I practically have to beg Eliot to watch Harry Potter with me." 

“Oh! What house are you?” Quentin asked her excitedly.

“Dear God,” Eliot groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Eliot let the two of them nerd out for a bit whilst he went over to the little bar area he had set up. After making two drinks for himself and Margo he focussed his attention on Quentin, trying to decide on what to make him. Maybe something on the sweeter side? He settled on a blackberry mojito. He’d love it. 

“-I’m sorry, but Darren Criss’ A Very Potter Musical is pure perfection. It's a literal work of art. I seriously cannot believe you just said that,” Quentin said with a horrified look on his face. Eliot was trying his best not to laugh at how absolutely delightful it was to see this boy all worked up. 

“It’s overrated. I said what I said. Come at me, Coldwater,” Margo shrugged, taking the glass from Eliot. “Thanks,” she gave him a sweet smile. Eliot leaned down and pecked her lightly on the cheek before crouching down so he was now eye level with Quentin. 

“Here,” he murmured softly. 

Quentin’s eyebrows shot up. “For me?” 

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Yes, for you. It’s a mojito.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said quietly, taking it from him. 

Eliot quirked his head to the side a bit as he watched him take a sip. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and he hummed happily. Success. 

Eliot smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair a bit as he stood up and moved to sit back down beside Margo on the couch. 

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. 

_Oh shush, Bambi. I’m just being nice._

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, but kept his gaze on Quentin. 

That boy was like something out of a wet dream of his. It was absurd, really, just how perfectly he fit his type. Such a sweet, _bratty_ boy. He wanted to eat him up. Desperately. 

The three of them ended up watching the rest of the movie and about a quarter of the 3rd, chatting and making little quips here and there. It was fun, honestly. He loved watching Margo and Quentin get animated over the littlest of details. Once you got Quentin going, that boy could truly ramble up a storm. His face would just light up, and he’d gesture with his hands. He could barely sit still. Eliot absolutely treasured it. 

“Alright kids, mama’s gotta get going. Josh is here to take me home,” Margo said with a small yawn as she stood up. 

“Oh, okay,” Quentin said a bit sadly. 

_Believe me, I feel the same._

It was Eliot’s first night without Margo in an embarrassingly long amount of time. 

He’d be fine though. 

Hopefully.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow, “ she said to Eliot, cupping his cheek in her small hand as she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Thanks for helping me move in,” he replied, looking up into her pretty doe eyes. They were like a sea of warmth. They made him feel like home. God, it was going to be so weird living without her. He missed her already. 

Then, Margo was gone, leaving just the two of them. Well, 3 if you count the dog. Eliot smiled as Teddy scampered over to Quentin and booped his cheek with his snout. Quentin rolled his eyes and smiled. “I gotta let him out for the night. I’ll be right back. Just gonna take him for a walk around the block,” he told Eliot as he stood up. 

Eliot’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. He glanced down at his phone to check the time. 

It was nearly 1:30 in the morning and he was going to go for a walk alone? Nu-uh. No way. 

“I’ll come with you,” he said, trying to keep his tone light and casual. Unfortunately, it came out rushed and slightly panicked. Quentin, the smart boy that he is, caught on. Well, sort of. A+ for effort. 

“Are you afraid of being alone here or something? I swear it’s not haunted,” he laughed, grabbing Teddy’s leash. The dog started jumping up and down with excitement. 

“Uh-huh. Sure. I’m still coming with you,” he replied, deciding to just go along with Quentin’s incorrect assumption. 

The two of them ended up walking in silence for a bit. It wasn’t awkward though. It was actually sort of comforting. Was it odd that for some reason he felt at peace walking in the dark in the middle of the night with a boy he met yesterday? Probably. 

“I uh, hope you like living here,” Quentin suddenly said. 

_Sweetheart. Why do you have to be so fucking adorable?_

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Eliot smiled. 

_____

The next few weeks of living with Quentin weren’t terribly difficult, but with their work schedules, they really didn’t get to see each other too much during the day. By the time Quentin was getting home from his shifts at the coffee shop, Eliot was usually heading out to the restaurant, and their days off almost _never_ lined up. The one exception to this tragic outcome was at night. Every night after Eliot would come home late from work, the two of them would have a drink or two and just talk. It was honestly kind of nice. The more Eliot got to know Quentin, the less he wanted to just fuck him and the more he genuinely started to like the guy. He was kind, but also incredibly bitchy and irritable. He also was hilarious. Eliot hadn't gone to bed a single night since moving in without his abs hurting from laughter. He’d never laughed like this with anyone before. It was ridiculous, really. Maybe a little pathetic, even. Whatever. It was great and he loved it. He wouldn’t change it for the world. Well, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. But maybe just being friends would be okay? Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he had a male friendship that didn’t end up with a dick in someone’s mouth. First time for everything though?

Tonight was Saturday, and they definitely had more than their usual 2 drinks. They both were giggly messes. “N-no! I’m not prank calling Margo!” Quentin practically squealed in protest. “Nope. You have to,” Eliot grinned mischievously, shoving the phone towards him after dialing her number, making sure to dial *67 first so his number came up as unknown. The two of them were currently in the middle of an intense game of Truth or Dare as if they were back in middle school. 

Quentin gave him a panicked expression and Eliot just shrugged and leaned back on the couch, resting his hands behind his head as he prepared to watch the disaster that was sure to come. 

“Hello? Who is this? It’s midnight. What kind of asshole calls this late?” Margo snapped. 

Quentin was still panicking, not knowing what to say. Apparently the boy had a bit of performance anxiety.

“I can hear you breathing,” she deadpanned and Eliot let out a laugh. His eyes widened and he slapped his hands over his mouth, trying to shut himself up.

“Seriously, El? You two are idiots. You’re paying for brunch tomorrow as an apology,” Margo said before abruptly hanging up the phone, causing the two boys to burst into laughter. 

“You ruined the prank!” Quentin pouted, storming over to Eliot so he could give him a shove.

“Me? _You’re_ the one who just sat there frozen like a deer in headlights,” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest, he was still smiling like an idiot though. 

Quentin glared and sat down on the floor in front of Eliot. “Fuck off,” he grumbled.

Such a brat. 

Quentin _really_ liked sitting on the floor for some reason. He just seemed to feel more comfortable. Eliot didn’t exactly feel the same, but to each their own.

He watched as Quentin reached over and picked up his glass of wine from the coffee table. His fingers fumbled a bit and the wine sloshed around in the glass, dangerously close to spilling. 

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough tonight, mister,” Eliot said, swiftly reaching down to grab the glass out of Quentin’s grip before an accident could happen. This was Eliot’s rug after all and it was _vintage_. His friendship with Quentin might actually end if he spilled wine on his baby. 

“You’re not my dad,” Quentin practically whined, laying down on the floor, spread out like a starfish as he peered up at the ceiling fan. 

“Brat,” he said, nudging Quentin’s side with his foot. 

Quentin turned his head to look at him and he stuck his tongue out, a playful gleam in his eyes. “What’re you going to do about it? Punish me?”

Oh.

Oh.

_Oh._

He knew Quentin was just joking around, but it still made him _feel things._

_Pull yourself together, Eliot._

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he teased, tossing one of the couch pillows at him. 

“Yes,” Quentin breathed out, the amusement gone from his face. 

Eliot felt frozen in place. Had Quentin _meant_ to say that? Probably not. The poor boy was probably going to feel so embarrassed tomorrow, that’s if he even remembers what he said. 

Eliot was thankfully interrupted from his internal little panic session by Teddy running up to him. He nudged his leg and made some whining noises. 

_You’re my lifesaver, Teddy. I owe you one. I’m going to go and buy you a bunch of new toys tomorrow. You’ll be thriving, I swear._

“I’ll let him out,” he said quickly, not even giving Quentin a chance to respond as Eliot swooped the little pup up into his arms and headed towards the front door. 

He didn’t look back once at his roommate, despite desperately wanting to. Desperately wanting to know what sort of look was on that pretty face of his. Had the two of them actually been flirting? Or was it just the alcohol? He knew the most probable answer would be the latter, but a man could dream. 

_____

After about 15 minutes of being outside with Teddy, he came back inside to find that Quentin was no longer in the living room. He frowned at the sight in disappointment. Maybe he just went to the bathroom or something? 

He let Teddy off of the leash before settling back down on the couch. He picked up his glass of wine and finished it off in one big gulp. When 10 more minutes had passed and there still was no sign of Quentin, it was pretty safe to assume that he had gone to sleep. He sighed and brought their empty glasses into the kitchen and placed them gently in the sink. They were his favorite wine glasses. He only ever used them for special occasions.

He’d used them every night the past few weeks with Quentin. 

Eliot wasn’t really that tired, and he was starting to sober up quite a bit, so he decided to get some work done. He sat down on the floor, in the spot that Quentin likes so damn much for some reason, and placed his laptop on the coffee table. The restaurant was hosting a dinner party for some Wall Street executives in a few weeks and the head chef wanted him to help come up with the menu. It was a pretty big deal for him.

After writing down the details for one of the appetizers (Fresh Alaskan King Crab Salad with Early Summer Corn, Little Gem Lettuce and Seasonal Vegetables), he decided to finally head to bed. As he was walking towards his room, he was distracted by the sound of some whimpers coming from Quentin’s bedroom. 

He frowned, taking a step closer and pressing his ear up to the door to hear better. 

The whimpers were soft and muffled. He sounded terribly distressed. It was pretty clear he was having a nightmare.

Should he wake him up?

Would it be an invasion of privacy to just barge in? 

He almost decided to just leave him be, but the whimpers intensified, and Eliot was quite positive at this point that the boy was crying. 

He felt an ache in his chest. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered. 

He slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door, giving him full sight of Quentin, squirming around in his bed and sniffling. 

Eliot sighed shakily and made his way towards the bed before dropping to his knees. He bit his lip, bracing himself for a most likely negative reaction as he placed his hand gently on Quentin’s shoulder, shaking him a bit. “Hey, wake up,” he whispered. 

Quentin’s body stilled for a split second before he went back to being a squirmy mess. 

He shook him harder. 

“Quentin,” he said a bit louder and more stern. 

He let out one last whimper before his eyelids fluttered open, revealing his glassy brown eyes. He was breathing heavily, practically gasping for air. The look on his face was pure terror, which soon turned into mortification. He knew Quentin would be embarrassed, but he had no reason to be. It was just them. Eliot would never in a million years hold this against him.

Eliot waited a few moments for Quentin's breathing to steady. 

“You had a nightmare,” he finally murmured, pushing Quentin’s sweat-soaked hair away from his face. 

“S-sorry,” Quentin sniffled. “Did I wake you up?”

_Baby._

He was the one who looked like he just went to hell and back, and he was worried about _Eliot_? 

“No. I was worried about you, though,” he frowned. 

“Sorry,” is all he said again as he buried his face back into his pillow. 

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize,” he quickly said, hating the fact that he was so upset. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. It was a dumb question to ask. Obviously he wasn’t okay. At least his body was calm again, and he didn’t seem to be crying. That was a small relief. 

“Not really,” he mumbled into the pillow. 

“You want to talk about it?” he hesitantly asked. 

He stayed quiet. Eliot took that as a big fat no. 

“You want me to get you some water or something?” he suggested, unsure of how to make the situation better. He just knew he felt this deep urge to do something, though. Anything at all to try and help. 

Quentin moved ever so slightly so his face was no longer completely hidden in the pillow. All Eliot could see was one of Quentin’s pretty eyes. It was red and puffy from crying. 

“Why are you being so kind to me?” he asked him quietly and Eliot honestly felt like he had just been slapped in the face. 

“Why wouldn’t I be kind to you?” he asked, horrified. They were friends. What kind of fucked up question was that? 

“I don’t know,” Quentin mumbled, burying his face back into the pillow to hide. 

Eliot sighed, figuring he wasn’t going to be making any more progress tonight. “Well just let me know if you need anything, okay?” he said, moving to grab the blanket so he could tuck Quentin in a bit. The moment his hands touched it though, his eyes widened. 

Oh. 

It was _wet_. 

He bit his lip and gently pressed his hand down on the bed.

_Fuck._

“U-uhm, Quentin? I think you wet the bed."

Quentin’s body visibly tensed up again as the realization set in. He quickly sat up, a panicked expression on his face. “Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” He watched as tears started to form in Quentin’s eyes again. 

All Eliot wanted to do was hold him. 

So he did. 

He got up off of the floor and sat down in one of the dry spots on the bed before pulling Quentin close to him. “Shhhh, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” he cooed, cradling the back of his head in one hand as his other was rubbing small circles on his back. 

What sort of fucked up nightmare did this boy have to make him such a _wreck?_ Eliot felt sick just thinking about it. 

He just sat there for a few minutes, rocking the two of them a bit as he held him, listening to Quentin quietly sniffling. Eventually, the sniffles stopped completely and Quentin’s body relaxed. “It’s okay, Quentin. Really, it is,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?” he said, letting go of him for just a moment so he could get up off of the bed. He then grabbed the boy’s hand and tugged him towards him. Quentin didn’t even protest. He led him towards the bathroom and he turned on the shower. “Give me your pajamas and I’ll put them in the wash with your sheets,” he said. “I’ll wait outside the door, just toss them out after you get undressed, okay?” he said and Quentin simply nodded sadly. 

He cupped Quentin’s cheek and just held it there for a moment. 

He wanted to just give this boy the world. He desperately wanted to see him smile again. 

Eliot was so goddamn _pathetic._ He’d known him for barely 2 months and he was acting like he was the love of his life or something.

_Get it together. It’s embarrassing._

By the time Eliot had finished putting the sheets, blanket, and pajamas in the washing machine, Quentin was already finishing up with his shower. Eliot searched through the linen closet to see if Quentin had any spare sheets, but apparently he did not. Eliot knew Quentin was a bit of a disaster, but come on. Only one pair of sheets? Really? Eliot would need to do something about that, ASAP. 

He walked back into the room just as Quentin stepped out of the attached bathroom wearing only a pair of boxers. Eliot tried to ignore how nice his body looked, but that seemed to be an impossible task. This is what he had been hiding under those baggy clothes? His body was small but surprisingly muscular and it was covered in an absurd amount of soft-looking hair. 

Eliot was pretty sure he was staring. 

He felt his cheeks flush as he looked up at Quentin’s face. 

He just was standing there, looking shy and embarrassed. 

_Well, that won’t do. That won’t do at all._

“All clean?” Eliot smiled.

He nodded, refusing to make eye contact with Eliot. 

He sighed and held out his arms. “Come here.”

Quentin obeyed, no questions asked. Didn’t even hesitate. 

The boy wrapped his arms around him tightly, burying his face in Eliot’s chest. “Seriously Quentin, it’s okay,” he said, resting his chin on the top of Quentin’s head. He was the perfect height for this. It was like Quentin was made for him. 

_Stop being a sap._

“Promise?” Quentin asked quietly. 

“Promise,” he replied. He meant it. “Come on,” he said, pulling away so he could grab Quentin’s hand. 

As he tugged him towards the door, Quentin asked, “Where are we going?” 

Eliot glanced back at him. “We’re going to sleep. Obviously,” he replied.

“But --” he began to protest, but Eliot cut him off. 

“Shh. For some reason, you don’t have any extra sheets. So you’re sleeping with me. I’m tired. I’m sure you’re tired. We’re going to sleep,” he told him, leading him into his own bedroom that was across the hall. 

He was pretty positive Quentin’s brain was freaking out right now, but he didn’t protest anymore. 

“Stop thinking so loud. It’s just sleeping,” Eliot scolded him gently. 

“Sorry,” he grumbled, climbing into Eliot’s King Sized bed. 

Eliot got in after him and tried to stay towards the edge of the bed, wanting to give Quentin space.

Quentin seemed to have calmed down quite a bit compared to when he first woke up. The hot water from the shower probably helped to relax him. Eliot was grateful for that.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?" Eliot asked, moving a bit so he was now facing Quentin. 

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but it might help to talk about it?"

Quentin took a deep breath in and moved so he was now laying on his back. Eliot recognized it as a coping mechanism that he himself had. It was easier to admit things if you didn't have to look at someone. It made you feel less judged. 

"I don't really remember much," he admitted. "But there was this girl with blonde hair and I think Penny was there?" he said. 

" _Penny_? Oh. Well, it all is starting to make sense now," Eliot teased, trying to lighten the mood ever so slightly. 

"Oh fuck off. He's not that bad. I mean yeah, he's sort of terrible, but still," Quentin said, his brattiness slowly returning.

Eliot stayed quiet and patiently waited for him to continue.

"Penny was holding her back and she was _screaming_ my name. She was devastated. I didn't even try and reach out to her, though. I just let her break down. I let her crumble to pieces and I have no idea why. It was like I was frozen. I couldn't move. It was on a loop. I was forced to watch it _over_ and _over_ again." Quentin wasn't looking at him, but Eliot could tell his eyebrows were furrowed and there was most likely a frown on his face. 

What the hell was Eliot supposed to say to that? 

He decided on, "At least it was just a dream. It's not like it really happened. I promise, there's not some pretty girl in distress because of you," he reassured him, wanting to reach out and pull him close, but deciding against it. 

Quentin decidedly had had enough of the topic because all he ended up saying in response was "Night, El."

“Night, Quentin,” he said quietly in return.

 _“_ Hey. You should uhm -- You should call me Q” Quentin replied, pulling the covers close to him as he moved onto his side so that he was facing Eliot. 

“Hmm?”

“Call me Q. My friends call me Q,” he mumbled sleepily, nuzzling the side of his face into the pillow.

Eliot smiled slightly and closed his eyes. “Night, Q.”

_______

When he awoke the next morning, he was uncomfortably warm, which was an unusual way for him to wake up considering they kept the air conditioning pretty low at night. 

He went to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but he realized his right hand wouldn’t budge. 

What the…?

When he opened his eyes he honestly didn’t know what to think.

Quentin was not only clinging to him like his life depended on it, but two of Eliot’s fingers were in Quentin’s mouth. 

_Holy shit._

Quentin was fast asleep though, just happily sucking away on Eliot’s fingers like they were a lollipop.

To make matters worse, the boy was gently humping his leg. 

No big deal. 

Quentin was obviously embarrassed last night, but if he woke up now, he might actually combust. 

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words. 

He’d definitely never want to face Eliot again, though.

He gently tried to pry the boy off of him, but he just seemed to grip him tighter. 

Quentin let out a small whine.

Eliot rolled his eyes and smiled. 

_Fine, you can have a few more minutes before I get up and try and pretend none of this ever happened. But_ only _because you're so damn cute._

He snuggled closer to Quentin and sighed happily. Eliot wouldn’t mind one bit waking up to this every day. He knew damn well it would never happen again, though. So he might as well enjoy it while he could.

Besides, Quentin just seemed so relaxed and at ease. It would be cruel to take that away from him, especially after last night. So technically, he was just doing the boy a favor, right? 

A little while later, Eliot forced himself to pull his fingers out of Quentin’s wet, hot mouth. They came out with a satisfying pop and he noticed Quentin’s face immediately scrunch up in protest.

_Such a needy boy._

He pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose. 

He noticed a tiny little smile form on Quentin’s lips, and Eliot’s heart nearly burst out of his chest. 

After spending about 5 minutes trying to carefully pry the sleeping boy off of him without waking him up, Eliot finally succeeded and headed into the kitchen to make some coffee. 

He felt slightly hungover, meaning Quentin was going to feel much worse than him. 

He was going out for brunch with Margo soon so he didn’t make any breakfast for himself, but that didn’t stop him from making something for Quentin, who most likely would be having a very rough morning today. He settled on making some chocolate chip pancakes. He wasn’t sure when Quentin would be getting up, but he figured they’d be okay reheated in the microwave. 

Afterward, he grabbed a glass of water and some ibuprofen and brought it into his bedroom. Quentin was still fast asleep, snoring softly. He now was in the middle of his bed, all sprawled out and laying on his stomach. Eliot smiled at the sight. 

He placed the water and pills on his bedside table along with a little note.

_Q,_

_I made you some pancakes. Microwave them for a minute. They’re chocolate chip. I’m going out with Margo, so if you need something, just text me._

_~El_

He looked down at the sleeping boy before him and sighed. “What are you doing to me, Q?”

_____

“So you and Coldwater had quite the night,” Margo had a casual tone to her voice, but Eliot knew damn well she’d been wanting to talk about it since the moment they sat down at the restaurant. 

“How long have you been waiting to say that?” 

“Oh shush. Spill. You got drunk with our boy? You look positively _wrecked._ I take it more than just some innocent prank calling occurred,” she was almost giddy with excitement. Margo constantly was prying for information on the Quentin situation. Unfortunately, up until now, there was nothing really to tell. Well, it’s not like Eliot had been trying to actively pursue the boy and had just been failing miserably. He genuinely was just trying to be his friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“It’s not what you think,” he assured her as he picked up his mimosa and took a pretty large sip. 

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Explain.”

“Well, first of all, drinking with Quentin last night wasn’t a first time thing,” he bit his lip and paused for a moment before blurting out quickly, “It’s sort of a nightly thing?” 

Her jaw dropped. “And this is the first I’m hearing of this?”

“I just knew you’d think it was a bigger deal than it is,” he told her with a shrug. “Honestly nothing ever happened between us. I’d get home from work every night and we’d have a drink and just _talk_. About life. Ourselves. We've been getting to know each other. It's been really nice, actually,” he told her, feeling as if he was sharing a secret that he didn’t want to share. His time with Quentin felt special. It was _theirs._ It was just for them. 

Apparently his face had betrayed him and made it obvious that he was currently getting far too sentimental in his thoughts at the moment because Margo’s face suddenly softened. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to. You know I’m just too nosy for my own good,” she told him quietly as she reached out to rest her hand over the top of his. 

“No, it’s fine,” he said with a nod, snapping out of his sappy mood. “So yeah, last night wasn’t the first time we drank together without you, but it was definitely the first time we got drunk. Well, Quentin was definitely drunker than I was. Such a lightweight. So predictable,” he grinned. 

“So you two got drunk and decided to play some middle school games?” she mused. 

Eliot shrugged. “It is what it is. It was fun.”

“Apparently too much fun,” she smirked. 

He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “We didn’t have sex, Bambi. I still don’t even know for sure if he likes guys,” he told her bluntly. 

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “But something clearly _did_ happen last night.”

He stayed silent for a moment. “I mean, yeah. It’s not a big deal though?” he said, but it came out more like a question. 

“Are you going to share with the class?” she asked, getting a little exasperated at this point. Eliot didn’t blame her, he was being extremely weird about it all. He was still trying to process last night himself. 

“Well uhm, first I made a joke?”

“A joke?”

“Yeah.”

She gestured for him to continue. “If you don’t speed this story up I’m going to leave,”

“You would never.”

“Just get on with it, lover boy,” she groaned. 

“Uh so yeah, I made this joke about him being a brat? And he played along, but at the same time, I think he was sort of into it? Like I think we were _flirting_ , Bambi,” he told her. He knew he was totally contradicting himself right now. He still was in denial about the idea of Quentin liking guys, but deep down he wasn't stupid. He _knew._ Quentin 100% was flirting with him last night, even though it was most likely just the alcohol.

“You sound like a 13-year-old girl. Why are you so surprised he’d flirt with you? You’re hot. Lots of guys flirt with you,” she shrugged.

“I know, but it’s _Quentin._ It’s different with him. I just--I can’t fuck this up,” he said, feeling stressed and confused beyond belief. 

He’s never really thought for even a minute he had a chance with Quentin. He didn’t know why, but he just was so incredibly special. He seemed untouchable to him from the very moment they met. Too good for this world. He deserved better than Eliot. 

“Stop self-deprecating. You’re a fucking catch. If you want to fuck him, go for it. I don’t see the problem,” she frowned. 

“You know damn well I don’t want to just fuck him,” he said quietly. 

“So we’re at _this_ point of the pining then. Seriously El, it’s only been a few weeks. We’ll go out tonight and you’ll meet some other boy with pretty hair and you’ll move on. I swear. Quentin’s nice, and I absolutely adore him, but he’s not God’s gift or anything like that. It’s just a boy, and you need to get laid,” she told him, in a lecturing sort of way. 

“Maybe,” he sighed. 

“So, are you going to continue the story or what?” she asked. 

Eliot wasn’t even sure if he wanted to tell her the rest. Maybe she was right. Maybe it had simply just been far too long since he got laid. Sex wasn’t what he wanted from Quentin though. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He most definitely wanted to fuck that boy into next week, but he wanted more than that. He wanted to take care of him and make him _happy._

_You’re getting sappy again, El. Cut it out. It’s disgusting._

“Well me being me, I freaked out and ran away. I went to go take the dog for a walk and when I came back inside, he was already in bed asleep,” he shrugged, looking down at his half-eaten plate of waffles. 

“Fine. I’ve clearly struck some sort of nerve with you today, and I’m sorry, okay? You don’t have to tell me any more,” Margo said after a moment. “So you genuinely really like him, huh?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t like anyone, though. Except me, of course.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he smiled weakly, just as his phone vibrated, signaling that he had received a text.

**_If you don’t make me pancakes every day for the rest of my life, I’m going to be pissed._ **

He laughed as another text quickly followed it.

**_Thank you, btw. For everything._ **

He smiled. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind comments on the first chapter. You guys are very sweet (:

_Early May_

_“Red or white?” Eliot asked, holding up two different bottles of wine._

_“Huh?” Quentin responded, picking his head up from the book he had been reading, Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. Dorian honestly kind of reminded him of Eliot. Both are these absolutely gorgeous men that people can't help but feel drawn to. They're basically long lost twins. Well, except for the fact that Dorian ended up turning into a literal monster. Eliot on the other hand is a good man with a good soul. Quentin thinks so, at least. He hopes._

_Eliot wouldn't casually stab him one day._

_Right?_

_Nah._

_“Should we have red or white wine?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow._

_“I honestly know shit about wine. I’ll drink whatever,” he told him as he carefully bent the corner of the page and shut the book. “Are we celebrating something?” he asked, watching Eliot pour two glasses of Pinot Grigio._

_“Yup. Celebrating my shit night at work,” he grumbled, handing one of the glasses to Quentin._

_Quentin frowned. “I’m sorry, do you want to--”_

_Eliot cut him off. “Nope. Just want to drink with my lovely new roommate,” he told him, forcing a smile._

_“Let’s sit out on the balcony. It’s too stuffy in here,” he added after a moment._

_Quentin followed after him._

_It was kind of cool outside, but Quentin didn’t mind too much. The view was worth it. The sky was full of stars._

_Quentin sat down in one of the chairs, pulling one of his knees up to his chest, trying to get comfortable._

_“We should make a toast,” Eliot announced._

_An amused smile teased Quentin’s lips._

_“A toast to what?_

_“Hmmm,” he thought for a moment. “Surviving a whole week of living together?” he suggested._

_Quentin glared. “Hey, it’s not that bad living with me,” he said with a pout._

_“No, but you’re a bit of a slob, darling. You leave a trail of mess wherever you go,” he laughed. “I don’t know how Julia put up with you,” he said, shaking his head._

_“Well, she did abandon me after all,” he pointed out, trying to go for light-hearted, but it came out as just flat out depressing and pitiful._

_“She didn’t_ abandon _you, she just went to grad school. Stop being such a dramatic little puppy,” he chided._

_“Yeah, yeah I know. I just miss her,” he sighed._

_Jules had moved to LA a couple of months earlier before classes started so she could get situated and find a job. She had asked him to spend a couple of weeks with her there this summer, but he couldn't get the time off from work. It's fine. He's not bitter at all._

_“Believe me, I know how you feel. When I was away from Margo when I lived in Paris, I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it. She was my rock, you know? But I got through it, and you’ll get through it too,” he promised. “Besides, you have me now. I’ve got you, no matter what. I’m not going anywhere,” he added in a softer tone._

_Quentin’s eyebrows furrowed. “You just met me, though. We’re practically strangers,” he reminded him. That was a pretty hefty promise to make to someone you didn’t even know. He probably was just being nice._

_Eliot shrugged and looked back up at the sky. “I bond fast. Time is an illusion, my dear.” He swirled the wine in his glass a bit before speaking up again, this time, clearly trying to deflect from the topic of himself. “So you didn't want to be like your friend and go to grad school too? For such a nerdy little thing I would have assumed that'd be right up your alley," he teased._

_Quentin’s body tensed up and he looked down at the barely touched glass of wine in his hand. “Uhm, I actually got into Yale’s graduate program last year but something came up last minute and I couldn’t go. They’re letting me start in the spring though,” he told him quietly._

_Quentin didn’t want to talk about it._

_Eliot didn’t push._

_“The sky is so clear tonight. I can’t remember the last time I saw this many stars,” Eliot changed the subject. How was he so good at that? He never made things awkward._

_Quentin cracked a small smile and looked up at the sky. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “It’s really pretty, isn’t it?”_

_“Mhhm. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before,” Eliot replied softly._

_His gaze was on Quentin._

_____

Present Day: Late July

Quentin tied his hair up into a little bun as he walked down the sidewalk. His shift at work didn’t start for another 45 minutes, but he was too on edge to stay at home any longer. He needed to get out of there. It felt like he couldn’t breathe. He was _suffocating_.

He was overthinking the night before. 

He was very aware of the fact that if he wanted, Eliot would pretend like nothing happened, in order to spare what little dignity Quentin had left. Why did Eliot have to be so _good?_ Quentin sure as hell didn’t deserve it. 

Quentin was a walking disaster and Eliot just put up with him somehow. 

He just didn’t get it. 

It made zero sense. 

_Stupid fucking Quentin. You have a good friend and you’re taking advantage of him. He didn’t sign up for taking care of you like a damn baby. Pull yourself together._

He was about to cross the street when his eyes suddenly caught sight of a small antique bookshop. Before he knew it, his feet were leading him towards the large glass display window. He passed the shop on a daily basis on his walk to work, but he never had considered stepping inside. 

He checked the time on his phone. 

He still had some time to kill.

As he pushed the door open, he was greeted by the nostalgic smell of old books. It was comforting, considering he spent most of his afternoons in high school hanging around bookstores with Julia. He hadn’t been to one in far too long. 

Quentin wandered through the aisles aimlessly, not really looking for anything in particular. Currently, he was walking through the fantasy aisle, brushing his fingertips against the spines of the books as he passed them. He came to a halt at one book that caught his eye, however. 

Fillory and Further.

Huh. 

He hadn’t read that book in _years_. 

The series had actually been a favorite of his growing up. 

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he held a copy in his hand, though. The ones he owned were packed away probably in a box, shoved into storage and never to be seen again.

After picking up the book, he opened it to read the inside cover. 2nd edition. A 1st edition would have been a much cooler find, but whatever. He'd still read it. He wasn't _that_ much of a book snob. Not anymore, at least. 

He carefully turned to the first page as he plopped down on the ground in the middle of the aisle. The place was pretty empty, he doubted anyone would yell at him for being in the way. 

The beginning was honestly a bit of a slow start, but for some reason, he felt compelled to keep reading. Tidbits of the story came flooding back to his mind. 

He was in the middle of page 17 when the sound of a hushed argument caught his attention. 

“This has got to be some cruel joke _,”_ he heard a girl snap. It sounded like she was gritting her teeth so hard they might break.

Oof.

Curiosity took over and Quentin slowly stood up. He walked to the end of the aisle and peaked his head around the corner of the bookshelf so he could witness the exchange at the cash register. 

“It’s not. I’m sorry,” the cashier said with a frown. 

The girl responded with something he couldn't quite make out, in a quiet, defeated tone.

Quentin couldn’t see her face. All that was visible to him was the back of her head. Bright, pretty blonde hair was in his line of vision. Just like the girl from last night. 

_Damnit, Quentin. Stop that. It was just a bad dream._

He leaned up against the bookshelf and squeezed his eyes shut, drawing in a few deep, shaky breaths. 

Just a dream.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

_Settle the fuck down. Eliot’s not here to make it better. You can’t have a breakdown every time you see some pretty blonde hair._

Quentin must have missed the last of the conversation because when he finally opened his eyes again a minute later, the girl was gone. 

He felt relief. 

However, that relief disappeared the moment his eyes caught sight of the clock hanging on the wall behind the register. 

10:53

His shift started at 11.

Shit.

He was going to be late. 

Looking down at the book in his hands, Quentin considered just shoving it back onto a random shelf so he could rush to work, but he impulsively decided against it. He walked up to the register and set the book down on the counter. The cashier didn’t even notice him. He was busy tapping away furiously on his phone. 

“Uh, hi.”

The boy’s head snapped up and his eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise before a pleasant expression was now evident on his face. 

“Hi, checking out?”

Quentin nodded and nudged the book towards him a bit.

The boy looked down at the book and studied the title for a moment before looking back up at Quentin. “You know what, it’s on the house,” he said with a smile, pushing the book back towards him.

Quentin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Uhm. Really? That’s so nice,” he said, taking the book. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“Have an awesome day,” the guy said with a smile.

Quentin slipped the book into his small, messenger back before quickly heading out the door. 

Okay, so if he speed-walks, he’ll get to work with a minute to spare. 

He did not get there with a minute to spare.

He was 8 minutes late.

His manager, Kady, was _pissed._

“This is the 4th time this month you’ve been late, Quentin,” she grumbled, pouring some cream into a customer’s coffee. 

“Sorry,” he sighed.

He wanted to say ‘It won’t happen again,’ but he knew that would be a blatant lie. 

He couldn’t help it. 

Quentin just had a habit of getting distracted. 

Oops?

_____

Work ended up being slow. Beyond slow. It was so damn slow that Quentin was tempted to ask Kady if he could head home early. However, she was probably still irritated with him from this morning, and also, he could honestly use the money. So, he decided against it.

Quentin was currently in the midst of doodling a poorly drawn rose on an old receipt, attempting to pass the time. 

“Slacking off on the job?” Eliot mused, placing both of his palms flat on the counter as he leaned forward a bit. 

Quentin startled, a look of surprise on his face as he looked up. 

Eliot seemed a little bit tired, but he still looked better than Quentin ever could even on his best day. 

“Obviously. You know me, such a rebel,” he responded sarcastically as he crumpled up the receipt into a tiny ball and threw it into the trash. 

“Mhhm. Definitely.” It was clear as day that Eliot was trying very hard not to smile. He was failing.

“What are you doing here?” Quentin asked abruptly. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. It’s just that you literally never come to visit me at work,” he added quickly and Eliot laughed. 

It was true, Eliot _never_ came to visit, even though he brought up how he wanted to all the time, telling him, ‘You still owe me that chocolate chip scone, Coldwater!’ But it never ended up happening. He didn’t blame him though, Eliot usually spent his days relaxing or sleeping before work. He knew it wasn’t anything personal, although he still hoped every shift he’d get a surprise like this. But two months late is better than never, right?

“Relax,” Eliot said, reaching over and grabbing one of Quentin’s hands in his so he could give it a squeeze. “I just wanted to see you. Am I not allowed?” he asked with a small pout. 

“N-no. You are. But. Like I said. You never visit. So, I’m just a little surprised?” he said, swallowing hard. He forced himself to focus on Eliot’s face instead of the fact that Eliot's hand was still clasped around his. He didn’t even really need to adjust his focus, however, because Eliot let go just a few seconds later. 

Quentin tried to hide the disappointment on his face, but he doubted it worked. 

For a split second, he _swore_ a similar look of disappointment flickered on Eliot’s face, but Quentin had to have just been seeing things. Why would he even be disappointed?

_He’s probably here out of pity._

_Because of last night._

_Because you acted like a child who needed to be taken care of._

_He probably just wanted to make sure you weren’t having another breakdown today._

_Ha, well jokes on you, El. I already had one earlier._

He pushed the threatening thoughts to the back of his mind.

“Have you taken your break yet? Come take a walk with me. It’s such a nice day outside.”

“Okay,” he said without hesitation. “Just gimme a minute.”

After letting Kady know that he’d be taking his break, he went to meet Eliot outside. He was currently leaning up against the wall, looking like a model, as usual. Quentin felt his mouth drying at the sight. It was just plain unfair that Eliot was _that_ beautiful. It was like he didn’t even have to try. No matter how long of a day he had at the restaurant, he’d always come home looking as gorgeous as ever. 

Eliot flashed him a smile that made him pathetically weak. “Hey,” he breathed out, pushing himself off the wall so he could close the gap between them. Before Quentin knew it, he was being pulled into a hug. It wasn’t a bone-crushing bear hug or one of those casual one-armed hugs. It was simply a good, comforting hug that he really fucking needed right now. He could feel the tension he didn’t even know he was holding in wash away as he melted against Eliot’s body. 

He buried his face in his chest and locked his arms securely around Eliot’s waist. After a few moments, Eliot started to pull away, but Quentin squeezed a little tighter. “Just one more minute,” he mumbled quietly. 

He expected Eliot to make one of his usual quips, but he didn’t. He stayed quiet. All he did was press a soft kiss to the top of Quentin’s head and rub his back soothingly. 

“Missed you,” Quentin whispered softly as he slowly pulled away a bit so he could look up at Eliot’s face. 

_Shut up, Quentin. Don’t be weird._

His eyes flickered with surprise, but then he smiled. “Missed you too, sweet boy. Why do you think I came to visit you, hmm?” 

The two of them were just standing there, holding each other in their arms. 

No big deal. 

This is super casual.

And platonic. 

Just bros being bros. 

Quentin wasn’t freaking out. Not at all. 

He felt his cheeks getting warm, so it was time to abort the mission and quickly look away. 

Deflect

Deflect

Deflect

“I don’t know. Maybe you just came to see Penny. I mean, you sure talk about him a lot for only meeting the guy once,” Quentin finally replied, shrugging out of the hug and taking a step away.

“Pfftttt. If anyone has a crush, it’s Penny on me. Not the other way around,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Quentin huffed, leaning up against the wall where Eliot had been just minutes before. “You think _everyone_ has a crush on you.”

“Aww, Q. Don’t be jealous,” he grinned, reaching out to grab Quentin’s hand

Quentin rolled his eyes and smacked his hand away, playfully. “I thought we were going for a walk?”

“You were such a sweet little thing this morning and now you’re back to being your grumpy self,” he sighed overdramatically, draping his arm around Quentin’s shoulders as they walked. It was like Eliot couldn’t keep his hands off him today. Eliot was usually pretty friendly when it came to touching, but _this_ was different. 

Quentin wasn’t going to complain. 

He’d take whatever he can get from Eliot. 

He leaned in a bit closer to Eliot as they walked, but he suddenly pulled away ever so slightly so he could look up at him. “What do you mean by I was sweet this morning? We didn’t even see each other. You were gone before I woke up,” he furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“Oh, I’ll never tell,” Eliot gave him a wink. 

Well, that’s comforting.

Not. 

“So Margo is begging me to go out with her tonight. Would you like to tag along?” Eliot casually asked, glancing over at Quentin. 

“What? Like. To a club? Uh. I think we both know that’s not really my style.”

“I know, just thought I’d ask anyway,” he gave him a sad smile. 

_____

Eliot really didn’t want to go out tonight, but Margo had insisted and he did aim to please after all. The two of them decided to try out somewhere new. It had honestly been quite a few months since either of them had gone out. Work had just been so exhausting lately, and besides, Eliot’s nights had been a bit occupied by a sweet little nerd who had weaseled his way into his heart without even trying.

He smiled at the thought of Quentin. He was beyond glad that he went to see him at work today. One of the best decisions he’s made in a while. It’s not like he’s never had the interest in going before, it just was a little bit scary for him. Quentin and him never really would hang out outside of their nights together. They didn’t go out into the “real world,” besides the first day they met, of course. They always were just home, together, alone, where they were safe in their little bubble and could be themselves. Just showing up at Q’s job was sort of putting himself out there, which was terrifying. 

A few weeks ago, however, he impulsively decided to just go for it. When he got there, though, before he even stepped inside, he took a peek through the window and just stopped in his tracks. Quentin was there, chatting with a customer, a cheerful little smile on his face. He just seemed so happy. It warmed Eliot’s heart. 

For some reason, he suddenly felt beyond nervous. He couldn’t bring himself to open the door. So, he left without even saying ‘hi’ to the boy. Instead, he practically ran back home and spent the rest of the day hiding in his room, scolding himself for being such fucking _wimp_. 

But today was different. Today he finally worked up the nerve, and Eliot was honestly a little proud of himself. He wasn’t entirely sure what exactly had given him the boost of confidence, but ever since waking up this morning with Quentin in his arms, he’s been craving that feeling nonstop. Holding Quentin again as soon as possible was all he could think about. Just spending a few hours away while he was with having brunch with Bambi made him feel like he was going through _withdrawal_. It was ridiculous. 

So, as a result of his pathetic neediness, he ended up not only getting to wrap his arms around the boy once again for a bit, but he also received reassurance that he was _okay._

Last night honestly broke his heart. 

If it hadn’t been for his brunch plans this morning, he most definitely would have stayed in bed with Quentin until he woke up, just to see how he was feeling. He seemed alright at work, though. Quentin wasn’t exactly the best at hiding how he felt, so Eliot’s mind was finally at ease.

“Stop daydreaming and fix your hair. You’re looking a little sloppy,” Margo said, flicking his arm. 

He shot a glare her way. 

“Wasn’t daydreaming,” he muttered defensively.

“Were too,” she smirked, slipping on a pair of black stilettos. 

He stood up and walked over to Margo’s vanity to take a look at himself in the mirror. 

His hair was _flawless._

How dare Bambi say otherwise. 

Okay, so there was _one_ curl somewhat out of place, but still. 

So rude. 

_____

Margo was heavily flirting with the bartender. He wasn’t _that_ cute in Eliot’s humble opinion, but she was enjoying herself and that’s all that mattered. She deserved it. Josh didn’t mind if Margo had a little bit of fun when she was out with Eliot, as long as she came back home to him. 

Eliot picked up his drink from the bar and made his way through the sea of people. Margo would be perfectly fine without him. She was always the more independent one out of the two of them. She didn’t need anyone taking care of her. 

He slowly sipped on his cocktail (He could have crafted a better one himself, but it’s fine) as he leaned up against the wall, just people watching. He noticed a pretty blue-eyed boy looking his way. He gave Eliot a smile. 

It was a nice smile, but Quentin’s was much nicer. 

Quentin’s smile lit up the goddamn world. 

Eliot constantly would try and do _anything_ to pry a smile out of him.

_Shhh, stop thinking of Q. He’s not here. He’s not your boyfriend. Just enjoy yourself tonight._

The pretty boy eventually made his way over to Eliot and before he knew it, he was texting Margo that he was leaving and the two of them were stumbling through the front door of the guy’s apartment, unable to keep their hands off one another. 

“What’s your name again?” Eliot asked, breathlessly as he tugged on the boy's sandy blonde hair.

It was too short and not nearly as soft as Quentin’s.

“Mike,” he mumbled against the skin of Eliot’s neck. 

Eliot tilted his head to the side, giving him more access. 

He felt Mike beginning to suck and Eliot immediately pulled away.

No, no marks. 

What if Quentin saw?

Wait. What did it matter if Quentin saw? 

Quentin wasn’t _his._ He wasn’t _Quentin’s._

Then why did it feel like he was cheating?

Oh right, because his feelings are genuine. 

He felt like he was going to be sick.

“Everything okay?” Mike asked with worried eyes as he pulled away. 

Eliot ran a hand through his now _truly_ messed up curls (Thanks, Mike) as he took a step back. 

“Listen, you seem very nice and you’re very pretty, but I’ve got to head out. This was a mistake,” he said.

Eliot never did this. Ever. 

He was the epitome of an emotional disaster right now. 

He desperately needed Margo to knock some sense into him.

_____

**Spending the night at Margo’s, I’ll see you tomorrow**

Quentin frowned at the text. 

It wasn’t the first time that Eliot had spent the night away from home, but -- he missed him. 

Already. 

It’s been less than 12 hours. 

He decided to just shut his phone off for the night. 

C' _mon Q, entertain yourself. Don’t just sit here and sulk._

Teddy was rolling around on the floor, trying to scratch his back. 

Adorable. 

“Hey Ted, you wanna play ball?” he asked, picking up a tennis ball that was wedged underneath the coffee table. 

Teddy perked up and stood up, his tail starting to wag. 

Quentin gave the ball a gentle toss. “Go on, go get it,” he encouraged and Teddy ran. 

He ended up playing with the dog until Teddy seemed to get bored, which was a whopping 5 minutes later. 

_What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

He looked around the room until his gaze landed on his messenger bag that was on the floor by the front door. Maybe he could read that book he got for a bit? After taking the book out of the bag, he headed into his bedroom so he could get comfortable.

He groaned as he took one look at his bed. 

There still were no sheets on it. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as he made his way towards the laundry room. The sheets and his blanket were sopping wet and still in the washer. He was supposed to put them in the dryer this morning but it completely slipped his mind. Now they had been sitting there all day. Gross. 

He restarted the washing machine and sighed. 

He was going to try and get comfy on the couch, so he could read his book, but he honestly was really looking forward to climbing into his warm bed. Maybe he could go--

No.

Could he?

Definitely no.

But he _wanted_ to.

Fuck it.

Eliot won’t find out. 

Even if he did, he wouldn’t mind. 

Would he?

It’s just for a little while...

He held the book close to his chest as he slowly took a step into the bedroom. Everything about the space just screamed _Eliot_. From the classy art hanging on the walls that Quentin was far too uncultured to respect to the expensive Egyptian Cotton sheets on his bed (Quentin wasn't entirely sure how Eliot could afford them?), the whole room was just everything Quentin's room wasn't. Quentin's room was bland and honestly pretty sad. He hated it there. He wanted to be here instead. 

He ended up climbing into the bed and getting situated on the side that Eliot had slept on last night. He sighed happily to himself. The pillow smelled faintly of Eliot’s cologne -- woody, with a touch of sweetness from honey and plums. It was intoxicating and quite comforting. He wished Eliot was _here_ , though.

Was this creepy of him to do? 

Probably.

Did he care?

Yes. Most definitely.

Was he going to go through with it anyway?

_Obviously._

He opened the book and began to read, picking up where he had left off before. 

2 hours later, the laundry was all finished.

He could go back to his own room now, where he belonged. 

He frowned at the thought, but reluctantly got out of Eliot’s bed, straightening up the bedding a bit so it didn’t look like Quentin had been lounging around in it like a fucking _stalker_ _._

After heading back to his own room and making his own bed, he took a step back to look at it. It truly was pathetic in comparison to Eliot’s bed. It was just a normal full-sized bed with a ratty old quilt. It didn't look inviting at all.

He wanted to go back to Eliot’s bed and sleep there, but he couldn’t. Because that was _weird_ and if Eliot came home tomorrow and saw him asleep in his bed Quentin might actually die of embarrassment. 

So instead, he got into his sub-par bed and tried to distract himself with the story of the Chatwin's and their adventures in Fillory until he fell asleep. 

God he wished he could go there. 

A magical world where you can escape all your problems? _Yes, please._

______

Quentin woke up the next morning to the smell of pancakes. His mouth was practically watering. He honestly had to use the restroom, but he could hold it. Food takes precedence. He got out of his bed, fumbling slightly. He steadied himself, though, and tried not to literally run out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. 

_Eliot's back._

When he finally reached the kitchen, he was greeted by a pretty ideal sight. Eliot was there, in his favorite red silk robe that was very loosely tied, revealing quite a bit of his chest. He was currently pouring some french vanilla creamer into a steaming cup of coffee. 

“Morning,” he said brightly as he placed the cup of coffee on the kitchen table beside a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. He gestured for Quentin to sit down. 

“You made breakfast again?”

“Well, you said you’d be pissed if I didn’t provide you with pancakes for the rest of your life and I sort of really need a place to live, so I can’t risk having you kick me out,” he shrugged, sitting down at the table. He was trying to be casual, using jokes to deflect, as usual. 

Why though?

“You know I was just kidding,” he pointed out as he sat down across from Eliot. 

“I know. But I’m a morning person, and I had nothing better to do,” he said. That was a big fat lie, but Quentin decided not to call him out. He had made him breakfast after all. He should be grateful, not a bitch about it. “Now eat before it gets cold.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“Aww, thank you. You’re so sweet,” he cooed.

Quentin wanted to throw a pancake at his face. 

But he couldn’t bear to waste one of them. He’d ask for the recipe, but he was terrible at cooking. He could barely use the microwave without things going wrong. 

“Good?” Eliot asked, almost shyly after Quentin had taken a few bites.

He nodded happily. “Thanks, El,” he smiled. 

A look of relief was plastered across Eliot’s face as he smiled back at him. 

“Did you have a nice night?” Quentin asked.

Eliot’s face fell for a split second before he forced a smile. “Yeah, it was alright,” he said, sitting up a bit straighter. 

_Why are you lying, El?_

“What about you?”

“Oh, uhm. My night was fine too, I guess.” Quentin said before shoving another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. 

Okay, so they both were liars.

Neither of them elaborated much more than that on the subject. 

They were the kings of keeping shit to themselves.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a little while before Eliot spoke up again. 

“Do you have work today?” he asked.

Quentin shook his head no as he set his fork down. “I’m off. Why?”

Eliot’s face lit up. “Spend the day with me until my shift starts then?” he suggested. 

How could Quentin say no?

_____

“It’s summer, Q. I refuse to go outside in 85 degree weather with you when you’re dressed for a blizzard. You’re going to get heatstroke and _die_ , which is just plain _rude_ because you know damn well I can't afford your half of the rent.”

Eliot was insisting that they go to the park today. It wasn’t exactly what Quentin had pictured when Eliot asked him to hang out. He was sort of thinking they’d just watch a movie or something, inside, where there’s air conditioning. But, this is fine too? If it made Eliot happy, then Quentin was happy too. That’s just how life worked. 

“It’s a hoodie, not a winter jacket.” he frowned. 

“Doesn’t matter. Just make Daddy happy and wear a t-shirt instead, okay?” he said, handing him an olive green short-sleeved shirt that he pulled from Quentin’s dresser. 

_Yes, Daddy. I’ll be good._

_Just for you._

Quentin felt his cheeks go warm and he mentally scolded himself. He knew Eliot was just joking around. 

He didn’t want him to be though. 

He took off the hoodie without any further complaints falling from his lips, revealing his bare torso. 

Normally he would have felt shy and embarrassed, but after everything that went down the other night, did he really have any reason at all to feel like Eliot was judging him poorly?

Quentin pretended not to notice that Eliot’s heat-filled gaze was firmly planted on him as he slipped the t-shirt on. 

“Better?” Eliot asked.

Quentin nodded. 

Eliot smiled. “Good boy,” he said, patting Quentin’s cheek lightly. 

He nearly dropped to his knees right then and there. 

_____

The park they ended up at was on the smaller side, but it was way less congested than Central Park, so Quentin was pretty content. It honestly felt like they were the only people here. It was sort of nice, to be honest. He watched as Eliot pulled a thin blanket out of a small bag he had brought with him. He then laid it down on the grass under a big, shady tree. He even went as far as to smooth it out, making sure there wasn’t a single wrinkle. Such a perfectionist.

Quentin wasn’t sure if he wanted to roll his eyes or smile at the sight. 

When Eliot was satisfied with the state of the blanket, he sat down and patted the spot next to him.

Quentin crawled onto the blanket and sat down, facing him. 

“Now what?” he blinked.

Eliot shook his head and laughed. “Now, we relax.”

Relaxing was not something Quentin did often. He tried but usually failed miserably. He was far too antsy. Sitting still just made him tense as hell. Even trying to relax when he was reading last night didn’t work out in his favor. The thoughts in the back of his head kept nagging him, putting him on edge. 

Whatever, though. He’d try anyway. For Eliot. 

He pursed his lips and decided to just focus on the sky. There weren’t really many clouds to look at today. The sky was this really nice shade of pastel blue, though. 

He got bored after a solid 2 minutes. 

He decided to sneak a peek at Eliot, who just so happened to be thoughtfully looking over at him. It almost seemed like he was admiring him. No. That couldn’t be right. 

“Stop staring at me. It’s creepy,” he groaned jokingly, laying down on the blanket and looking back up at the sky. There was a helicopter in his line of sight now that he could focus on. Quentin’s never been in a helicopter before. They seemed cool. When he and Julia used to watch The Bachelor they always would feel beyond jealous of the helicopter ride dates. 

“You’re so mean to me,” Eliot laughed. “And I wasn’t staring,” he argued, moving to lay down beside Quentin on the blanket.

Quentin turned his head to look at him. “You _always_ stare. You think I don’t notice, but I do,” he told him, reaching over to poke his cheek. 

It wasn’t a creepy sort of stare (At least he didn't think so?), but Eliot’s eyes sure as hell seemed to be on him _constantly,_ especially the past few days. It was as if Quentin was a fragile little doll or something and Eliot was afraid he was going to break if he didn't keep an eye on him. 

It was kind of sweet.

And comforting.

(He _really_ hoped Eliot wasn't just being creepy, though.)

“No comment,” Eliot huffed, looking away. 

Quentin cracked a smile. 

Eliot very rarely got flustered, but on the few occasions that he did, Quentin loved it. 

It was silent now, except in Quentin’s mind. His thoughts were _loud._

Eliot just looked so comfy, spread out on the blanket. So warm and inviting. Well, obviously warm, it was 85 degrees outside in New York. But still. 

_Don’t do it, Q._

“Now who’s the one staring?” Eliot smirked as he glanced over at him. His eyes were sparkling like they always did when he was in a playful sort of mood. 

Quentin didn't engage in the banter Eliot obviously was wanting. Instead, all he did in response was carefully scoot over a bit so he could cuddle into Eliot’s side. The moment his cheek pressed against Eliot’s chest, he let out a small sigh. 

Eliot’s arm immediately wrapped around him as if it was a reflex at this point. 

Safe

Safe

Safe

He stayed quiet for a while as Eliot hummed a pretty tune softly to him and stroked his hair. 

For once, Quentin’s body was in fact relaxed. 

It was strange how Eliot just naturally had that effect on him. He didn’t even have to try. It was like Eliot just touched Quentin and bam he was at peace. Eliot seemed to magically take away all his worries somehow. He decided to not overthink it for once, though. Instead, he simply let himself enjoy the feeling.

Everything just felt calm and _good._

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Eliot asked curiously, tapping the side of Quentin’s head. 

“Honestly? Nothing for once,” he told him softly. 

He felt Eliot pull him a little closer and Quentin smiled. 

“Your heart is racing,” he murmured quietly and he felt Eliot’s body shake a bit with laughter.

“I have a cute boy in my arms, what do you expect?”

It was when Eliot said things like _that_ , that would confuse him. 

_Did_ Eliot feel the same? 

Or was he just a flirt?

_Shhh, Q. Stop worrying. El’s got you right now, that’s all that’s important. Even if it is temporary._

He stayed quiet and just closed his eyes. He could stress himself out about it later. 

“Hey, don’t go falling asleep on me,” Eliot teased, dragging his fingertips down Quentin’s bare arm. 

He shivered. 

Considering it was the middle of summer, it was pretty obvious that Quentin wasn’t shivering from the cold. Eliot didn’t call him out. Quentin was grateful.

Quentin moved a bit and draped his arm over Eliot’s waist shyly, hoping it was okay. 

It was far too hot to cuddle, but neither of them seemed to mind one bit. 

“When your friend is in town this weekend, you two should come to the restaurant,” Eliot mentioned casually. 

Julia was coming to visit for a couple of days before school started. They had missed each other terribly during the past 2 months apart. Quentin was beyond excited to see her again. 

“Okay, sounds good.” 

After that, Quentin didn’t really say too much else. Eliot was going on about the dinner menu he was planning for some big fancy event. The most Quentin ended up contributing to the conversation was an occasional “Mhhm.”

“Wow. Am I boring you? You keep going quiet on me” he said, acting as if he was offended. 

“No, you just make me feel safe,” he mumbled. 

He felt Eliot’s body tense up.

That caught his attention. 

Oh no. 

The peacefulness in his brain was most definitely gone now and it was replaced with an anxious panic that he was oh so very used to.

Fuck.

Did he make things weird?

Probably.

You’re so _stupid_ , Quentin.

“S-sorry,” he quickly said as he attempted to sit up, but Eliot just tugged him back down. 

“Don’t apologize,” he pleaded before softening his voice a little, “Please.”

“Okay,” Quentin said softly, closing his eyes and nuzzling back into his chest, wanting to drift back to the happy place. 

_____

“Sweetheart, wake up,” Eliot whispered, rubbing Quentin’s back.

“Don’t wanna,” Quentin protested, hooking his leg over Eliot’s and clinging on tighter. 

Eliot let out a laugh. “I know, I wish we could stay like this all day, but I have to go to work soon,” he told him, sadly. 

Quentin miserably let go of Eliot and slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he let out a small yawn. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. What the fuck?

He felt sticky and gross. He definitely needed a shower. 

As he looked up at the sky he was surprised to find that the sun was already starting to go down. How long had he been asleep? 

“Thirsty?” Eliot asked, leaning over to grab a bottle of water out of the bag.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse. 

He ended up chugging half the bottle.

He felt a few drops of water dribbling down his chin and he was about to wipe them away with the back of his hand, but Eliot beat him to it. 

He effortlessly wiped the water away with the pad of his thumb, a sweet smile on his face. 

Quentin swallowed, hard. 

Be _good._ Say thank you. 

“Thanks,” he blurted out. 

Eliot grinned, a look of pure delight was on his face. “No problem,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand towards Quentin. “Come on. Let’s head home.”

Quentin grabbed his hand and let Eliot easily pull him up. 

He almost let out a sad whimper when Eliot let go. 

_Bad Quentin. Stop that._

“Thanks for spending the day with me, Q. I really enjoyed it. Even if you did ignore me for the majority of the time,” Eliot said, playfully elbowing Quentin's side as they started walking back to the apartment.

“Didn’t mean to,” he grumbled, keeping his eyes on the ground, counting the cracks in the sidewalk. 

_1_

_2_

_3_

“I'm glad I make you feel safe. It feels good to be needed,” Eliot admitted softly as he slid an arm around Quentin’s waist, tugging him close. 

_Don’t let him see you blushing._

_Don’t let him see you blushing._

_Don’t let him see you--_

"Aw, are you blushing? Such a cutie."

_____

Quentin thought Eliot’s sudden need to constantly be touching him would have worn off after a day or so. They were well into day 4 at this point, though, and the touching certainly did not stop. Quentin _loved_ it. 

“Now remember, it’s a _nice_ restaurant, Q,” Eliot said, looking straight into his eyes as he pushed a bit of Quentin’s hair behind his ear with one of his hands while keeping his other hand firmly planted on Quentin's hip.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Margo already sent me a very long, _threatening_ text about how I need to look good so I don’t embarrass her in front of your coworkers,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I have an outfit planned. I’ll look fine. I promise.”

A smile slowly started to build on Eliot’s face. “You’re so freaking cute,” he said. “Seriously, it’s adorable that you think for even one second Margo and I would leave you to your own devices,” he laughed.

Quentin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re such an ass.”

“Don’t get bratty. I have a very nice dinner planned for you and your friend,” he raised his brows, digging his fingertips into his hip a little bit. 

_Oh. Please keep doing that._

Quentin bit his lip and looked down at his feet, but Eliot just wasn’t having it. 

He felt two of Eliot’s fingertips gripping his chin and tilting it up, forcing him to make eye contact. 

“Now listen, okay? I set out an outfit for you on your bed. Put it on for me, _please?_ It would make D-" he cut himself off and started again. "It would make me really happy."

Quentin swallowed. 

_Anything for you._

After Eliot headed out for work, Quentin attempted to tidy up the apartment a bit before Julia arrived. Most of the mess was definitely Quentin’s. He felt sort of bad, considering he knew Eliot had just cleaned _yesterday_. Yet it somehow was already a total disaster in here again. 

Maybe Eliot was right, he was a bit of a slob.

He was just finishing up shoving way too many dishes into the dishwasher when he heard a knock at the door. 

Quentin grinned.

“Q!” Julia practically squealed as she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight the moment he let her in. “I missed you so damn much,” she said, giving him a final squeeze as she pulled away. 

“Hey, Jules. Good flight?” he asked, picking up her bag that was on the floor. 

“Eh, it was alright. I’m sort of tired. I’m starving though, we’re still going to Eliot’s restaurant, right?” she asked as she pulled off the light sweater she was wearing and tossed it onto the couch. 

_So much for tidying up._

“Well, it's not _his_ restaurant. But he works there. I think he said he’s the sous chef? But yeah, he wants to open up a restaurant. With Margo, his best friend. They’re working on it,” he rambled and she raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t ask for the guy’s life story," she laughed.

His face flushed. “Sorry.”

She smiled as she looked around, admiring the place. “Damn, it’s so different from when I was here. He sure knows how to decorate,” she murmured in awe. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty talented, isn’t he?” 

_____

“Well hello, Quentin,” Margo said, looking him up and down. A satisfied smile was on her face.

“Hey,” he said, fiddling with the hem of the black button-down Eliot had picked out for him. 

“You must be Julia, I’m Margo. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, yeah. Quentin’s told me a lot about you. I think you and Eliot have honestly replaced me. You two are all he talks about these days,” she laughed, and Quentin gave her a glare. 

_Traitor._

“Well, what can I say? Eliot and I have definitely elevated this sweet boy’s terribly bland life.”

He rolled his eyes. “Are you two finished with trying to embarrass me?”

“Never,” they both say at the same time before bursting out into a fit of giggles. 

“I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t go,” Margo said with a pout, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “Eliot will kill me if you leave.”

“Fine, but I’m staying for him. Not for you,” he pointed out.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she laughed.

Eliot had a whole menu planned for them. The waiter wouldn’t even let them choose their own drinks. Quentin didn’t really mind though, he wasn’t too keen on making decisions anyway. Besides, Eliot seemed to know what he liked better than he did. 

Towards the end of the evening, the waiter placed two dark chocolate soufflés in front of them and Julia was giddy with excitement. 

She honestly was having the time of her life.

“I don’t know how you got so lucky, Q,” she told him in disbelief. 

“Believe me, Jules, I'm just as confused as you are,” he said, looking down at the plate the little soufflé was sitting on top of. Off to the side, there was a little heart piped in raspberry sauce. Julia’s dish didn’t have one. 

He felt a flutter in his chest. 

“Q, this is _amazing_ ,” Julia moaned with her mouth full.

The two of them were about halfway through their dessert when Quentin felt someone gently rest their hand on his shoulder and give it a little squeeze.

_Eliot._

“Hey,” he murmured, leaning down and pressing a light kiss to his cheek. 

Quentin kept his eyes on Julia’s face. Her eyes were wide and she mouthed, ‘Oh my God. He’s _hot_.’ 

‘I _know,'_ he mouthed back as Eliot pulled away to stand up straight. 

“Hi, I’m Eliot. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a charming smile to Julia.

“Pleasure is all mine. I’m Julia,” she said, smiling sweetly. Too sweet. 

Quentin kicked her from under the table.

_Back off Jules. I called dibs._

He didn't even know if Eliot was interested in girls. He didn't seem to show any interest? But still, he felt jealous. It was gross. 

She threw a glare his way and Eliot raised his eyebrows in confusion, clearly having missed something. 

He brushed it off though and changed the subject. “So did you two like the food?”

The three of them chatted for a few more minutes before Eliot said he had to get back in the kitchen. He’d be home later, though. Quentin promised they’d wait up for him.

Before he left, though, Eliot leaned down to whisper in Quentin’s ear.

“You look very handsome tonight, sweetheart.”

____

“He so likes you, Q,” Julia told him for about the 100th time that night. 

“He likes me as a _friend,”_ he said, keeping his eyes focussed on the TV as he scrolled through Netflix. He eventually settled on The Office. Eliot usually liked to watch lighthearted sitcoms after work. It helped him unwind. 

“ _No_ , he absolutely adores you. How can you not see it?” she asked, exasperated. 

He shrugged. “Well Jules, if he liked me so much, he’d do something about it.”

“It goes both ways, Q. You could make a move too, you know.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. 

She had a point. 

But it was _Eliot._ He couldn’t just be like, ‘Hey El, please love me? K thanks.’

When Eliot arrived home a few hours later, he ended up taking a quick shower before finally joining Quentin and Julia in the living room. “Sitting on the couch tonight? What’s the special occasion?” Eliot asked, his eyes full of mischief as he made the 3 of them some drinks. Julia was in a cocktail sort of mood, so Eliot made her one before pouring a glass of their favorite Pinot Grigio for himself and Quentin. 

“I forced him. I wanted to cuddle,” Julia answered for him as Eliot handed them their drinks. 

“Well I hope you don’t mind, but I’m joining the cuddle party,” Eliot said with a bit of a yawn as he sat down next to Quentin, leaning his head on his shoulder. 

Quentin closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of Eliot’s head as he moved a little bit closer to him.

He ended up kind of forgetting Julia was even there. He tuned out the sound of the TV too. All he focused on was the steady sound of Eliot’s breathing. 

It was like they were in their own little world.

It was his favorite place to be.

_____

Quentin woke up in the middle of the night breathing heavily. Julia wasn’t even phased. That girl slept like a rock. He slowly sat up and reached for his phone on the nightstand to check the time. 3 AM. 

_Just go back to sleep, Q._

He tried, he really did, but every time he closed his eyes he just saw that same girl, _screaming_. 

He carefully got out of the bed and slowly walked out of his bedroom, towards the only place he wanted to be right now. 

Eliot was fast asleep. It was a dumb observation to make. Obviously he’d be asleep, it was the middle of the night. He almost turned around and went back to his own room, but his feet were already taking him towards the bed before he even had a chance to back out. He slowly climbed in and snuggled up against Eliot. 

It took a moment for Eliot to wake up, but when he did, he wasn’t mad. All he did was pull him closer, no questions asked. 

Quentin still felt the need to explain himself, though.

“Had another nightmare. Can’t go back to sleep,” he mumbled miserably.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry,” he murmured back, almost just as miserably. It was as if Quentin’s pain was his own. 

Suddenly Eliot was sitting up and pulling Quentin to sit in between his legs so his back was up against Eliot’s chest. He wrapped his arms around Quentin’s waist and held him in place. His knees were bent and it felt like Eliot was caging him in. 

He felt small. 

_Protected._

He sighed softly in relief. 

“If you can’t sleep, then I’ll stay up with you until you feel like you can, okay? Sound like a deal?” he asked, resting his chin on Quentin’s shoulder. 

"Okay,” he said quietly. Quentin wanted to protest, already feeling bad that he had woken him up, but he had a feeling Eliot wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. 

He leaned his head back into Eliot and closed his eyes for a split second, but immediately regretted it, letting out a small whimper. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed. 

Quentin was trying to relax, really he was. But he couldn’t. He was _stressed._ His mind was racing.

Blonde.

Screaming. 

Pain.

Anguish.

Frozen.

 _Trapped_.

“Make it stop, please. Turn it off,” he begged quietly, giving absolutely zero context at all, but yet expecting Eliot to just know what he meant. 

Tears were rolling down his cheeks at this point. 

_Way to go, Quentin. You’ve now cried in front of the boy you like twice this week. This must be a new record for you. You deserve a prize._

Eliot paused for a moment before reaching around and pressing the tips of two of his fingers to Quentin’s bottom lip. “Open,” he murmured.

Quentin's jaw immediately dropped and he soon felt Eliot’s fingers sliding into his mouth. 

He grabbed Eliot’s wrist with both of his hands, as his mouth closed.

His eyelids fluttered shut and for the first time, he didn’t see the girl. 

“There you go, that’s a good boy,” he said before pressing a kiss to the top of his head as Quentin slowly sucked. 

He felt his tummy do flips at the praise. 

After just a few minutes, his body honestly felt like goo. Not a single ounce of tension was left in his bones. 

When Eliot finally pulled his fingers out, Quentin let out a happy sigh.

“Feeling better?” Eliot asked as Quentin got out of Eliot’s grip and turned so he was facing him. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he just nodded. 

Quentin was currently kneeling in between Eliot’s legs, but he much rather would be in his lap.

_Bad Quentin. Stop that._

Apparently he was as easy to read like a book because all of a sudden, Eliot was reaching towards him and pulling him into the exact spot he wanted to be. 

“You know if you want something, all you need to do is ask,” he told him as he adjusted Quentin a bit in his arms so they both were sitting comfortably.

He wrapped his arms around Eliot’s neck and just looked up at him, admiring his features that were highlighted from the moonlight spilling in through the windows. 

_Pretty_

“What? Is there something on my face?” he asked, amused. 

Quentin’s cheeks flushed and he quickly buried his face into Eliot’s chest, embarrassed. 

“No, don’t hide, baby. Please."

Quentin peaked up, shyly.

“Aww, thank you. Such a sweet boy you are for Daddy,” he cooed, and then his eyes widened at the realization of what he just said. “Shit. Quentin-” he started to apologize, but he stopped to take a good look at Quentin, who was just sitting there in his lap, _beaming._

He didn’t end up finishing the sentence. Instead, he tilted his head a bit to the side as he ran a hand through Quentin’s hair.

Quentin immediately leaned into the touch, letting out a content little hum. 

“We-- We’re talking about this tomorrow. Understood?” he said, looking straight into Quentin’s eyes. 

He nodded, not entirely processing what exactly Eliot was talking about. But he was asking him a question and the answer would obviously be yes to anything having to do with Eliot. So, he nodded and smiled happily. 

“You think you can fall back asleep now?”

_____

For the second time waking up in Eliot’s bed, Quentin was alone. 

Quentin felt sad.

And cold. 

He frowned, pulling the covers close to him, wanting to just sleep the day away. 

Julia was here, though. They had plans in Manhattan. She’d drag him out of bed if he stayed in here any longer. He might as well just get up. 

He yawned sleepily as he walked out of Eliot’s room and into the hallway. 

He heard voices in the kitchen. Julia, Eliot, and it sounded like Margo was here too? 

Huh. Maybe she had plans with Eliot?

He tried to fix his hair a bit as he stepped into the kitchen. He most likely just made it look worse. Whatever. 

“Hey sleepyhead,” Margo said, pushing a glass of orange juice towards him. “Hope you don’t mind if Eliot and I join your little adventure in the city today,” she said. She made it seem like it was a suggestion. It was definitely not, though. They were coming whether he wanted them to or not. Luckily, he did. Very much so.

“That’s fine,” he said with a nod as he sat down at the table next to Julia. 

She gave him a knowing look. 

He knew exactly what she was thinking.

And she was _wrong_.

Nothing happened. 

Well.

That was a lie.

Something _did_ happen, but it was all sort of a confusing blur?

“Shut up,” he muttered to her before she even had a chance to embarrass him.

Eliot came and sat down on the other side of him. “Hi,” he said with a lazy smile. 

Quentin blushed for no damn reason. “Hi,” he said back. 

He could see Margo smirking from the corner of his eye. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she leaned back in the chair, just _watching_ them. 

Oh, Eliot 100% told her.

Quentin knew the two of them didn’t keep secrets, but damn. It was like 10 am and she already knew? 

Knew what though exactly? What did Eliot even say to her?

‘So yeah, Quentin sucked my fingers and cried in my arms last night.’

Fucking _fantastic._

If he told her about last night, he most definitely told her about the _other_ night. The night where he-- Just the idea of it was making Quentin feel a bit queasy. 

_Don’t think about it, Q. El said it wasn’t a big deal. Get the fuck over it._

The four of them sat there, chatting as they ate breakfast together. They all were having eggs, while Quentin was having his usual pancakes. (Eliot was now on day 5 of making pancakes for him. He was committed, to say the least.)

Quentin didn’t really add anything of substance to the conversation, he still felt pretty sleepy. 

He felt bad, Eliot was probably tired too. 

Because of _him_. 

He set down his fork, his appetite gone. 

“--I just don’t understand why LA is so expensive. My rent is twice as much as it was in New York, yet my apartment is even smaller and I have 3 roommates, who are just horrible. None of them do the dishes and they constantly leave their shit everywhere. You can barely see the floor,” Julia groaned. 

“Sounds like Q,” Eliot grinned, reaching over and giving Quentin’s thigh a small, comforting squeeze as if to say ‘I’m just teasing, don’t get mad.’

It wasn’t even possible for Quentin to get mad when Eliot was _touching_ him. The second Eliot started to pull his hand away, Quentin placed his own on top of his, desperately trying to keep it there. 

Eliot glanced over at him, giving him a small, reassuring smile. 

When Quentin finally pulled his hand away, Eliot’s stayed. 

“Oh no, believe me, these girls are far worse than Q. Living with Q is like a dream compared to them,” Julia grumbled, stabbing at her eggs angrily. 

After that, Quentin tuned the conversation out again. 

He went back to eating his pancakes happily due to the fact that his appetite was magically back. 

Between the chocolate chip pancakes in his mouth and Eliot running his hand up and down his thigh, Quentin was a very happy boy right now. 

“Okay, so I can let Teddy outside while you three get dressed?” Margo suggested as they all placed their empty plates into the sink awhile later. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Julia said before heading into Quentin’s bedroom. When Margo had left as well, Eliot gently grabbed Quentin by the wrist. “Hey. How are you feeling?” he asked, rubbing the inside of his wrist soothingly with his thumb. 

_That feels nice._

“I’m okay,” he told him truthfully. 

“Good,” he breathed out. 

“Q! Do you have a spare toothbrush? I forgot to pack one,” Julia called out from the bedroom. 

Quentin frowned.

Eliot smiled softly. “Go on, be a good host to your guest,” he said, letting go of his wrist. 

Quentin felt lost without his touch.

_No, put it back. Please._

Quentin forced a weak smile and nodded before turning to leave. By the time he reached his bedroom and shut the door behind him, though, he apparently was too late. Julia was currently sitting on the bed, casually brushing her teeth. 

“What the fuck? You said you needed a toothbrush.”

He squinted his eyes ever so slightly to take a closer look at the familiar toothbrush in her hand. 

“Ew are you using _mine_?” he asked in disgust. 

She rolled her eyes. “You took too long,” she said, it came out pretty muffled though.

“Gross,” he scrunched up his nose. 

“So you disappeared last night,” she stated. 

“I’m not talking about it.”

“Oh yes, you are.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know when you’re lying, Q,” she warned.

He groaned, pulling a black t-shirt on. “This conversation is over,” he said, stepping into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. 

“Rude!” she called out. 

He sighed, looking at himself in the mirror.

Today's going to be a long day.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii. So I planned on posting this chapter weeks ago, but my 19-year-old dog tragically died and that was way more traumatizing than I thought was even possible. Anyway, I'm real sorry this is up so late. I'm gonna try to get into a weekly posting schedule and you can feel free to hold me to that. So if I ever take this long to update again, y'all can totally yell at me bc I deserve it lmfao. 
> 
> Hope everyone is doing well though. Oh, and support our sweet boys by donating if you can to Covenant House in order to ensure homeless youth have a safe place to go (:
> 
> https://www.sleepout.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.team&teamID=8715
> 
> (Also trigger warning in this chapter for discussion of depression)

_Early May_

_“Favorite color?”_

_“Really? That’s such a bland question. I refuse to answer,” Eliot scoffed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his work pants. He had just been getting home from work when he bumped into his adorable little roommate in the lobby of their apartment building. Although Eliot desperately wanted to head upstairs and take a shower, he ended up impulsively inviting himself to tag along on Quentin’s nightly walk with Teddy instead. Eliot assumed Quentin would most likely protest. Maybe his face would even scrunch up cutely like it tended to do more often than not. He didn’t though. He simply smiled sweetly and nodded. The look on his face most definitely made up for the fact that Eliot was sweaty and gross and reeked of a kitchen. So worth it._

_Eliot was weak._

_It was pathetic._

_Quentin huffed as they turned the corner. “You’re no fun. I’m just trying to get to know you," he complained._

_“Take that back. I’m lots of fun,” he protested._

_He decided to ignore the whole ‘getting to know you’ part that Quentin had said._

_“Oh really? You have yet to prove yourself,” Quentin responded, a gleam in his eyes as he glanced over at Eliot._

_Oh._

_He wants to play?_

_Cute._

_"Come out with me some time and I'll show you just how fun I can be," he purred in Q's ear._

_It was just a joke._

_Kind of._

_Quentin's body (predictably) tensed and he nearly dropped the handle of the leash in his hand._

_"Careful sweetheart, wouldn't want Teddy to run away," he told him as he watched Quentin try and get ahold of himself._

_Getting Quentin all flustered was admittedly one of his favorite pastimes._

_They continued to walk in silence for about 2 more blocks. They were starting to make their way back to their apartment building at this point. Thank the Lord, he could finally take a shower soon._

_“So..." Quentin finally spoke up. "Where did you grow up?”_

_Eliot suddenly was wanting to go back to the favorite color question._

_“What makes you think I’m not from New York?” he raised a brow._

_“Well,_ are _you?”_

_“No.”_

_“So are you going to tell me where? Or are you going to make me guess?” he asked with a grin._

_Eliot rolled his eyes playfully as he draped his arm over Quentin's shoulders._

_Was this okay?_

_He hoped._

_It wasn’t the first time he’d touched Quentin, but still. Every time he did it he was hesitant, afraid that one of these days Quentin would suddenly get freaked out and run away. Maybe he would even accuse Eliot of hitting on him._

_He felt Quentin's shoulders relax in his grasp. He peaked up at Eliot, a curious look in his eyes._

_“You seemed cold,” he murmured._

_It was a lie._

_Oh fucking well._

_Sue him._

_Eliot spoke up again. “If you can guess where I’m from in one try, I’ll cook dinner for you someday.”_

_“What makes you think I even would want that?” Quentin scoffed, eyes focussed on Teddy._

_"You live off of ramen noodles. That's not an adequate diet. You're a growing boy. You need protein," he stated._

_"Oh right, and you cooking for me once will completely fix all the damage the ramen has done?"_

_"Exactly," he grinned._

_Eliot ended up giving Quentin 4 guesses because he was a generous king._

_He didn't guess right._

_Eliot was both relieved and sad._

_Maybe one day he'd get the honor of spoiling his roommate._

_They were officially one block away from home at this point. Teddy seemed worn out. Looks like the walk was successful._

_“Listen, I appreciate the company. Like really, I do. But you don’t always have to come with me to walk Teddy at night. I’m a big boy, you know. I’m not 10,” Quentin pointed out._

_“Oh, so you want me to stop then?”_

_“No,” he grumbled quietly._

_“What was that? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Eliot teased._

_He glared up at Eliot, but it was clear he was trying his absolute best not to smile._

_“Just admit you like spending time with me.”_

_“Never.”_

_“Say it,” Eliot persisted with a pout, tickling Quentin’s side a little bit._

_Quentin let out a small giggle and Eliot’s heart nearly melted._

_How fucking precious._

_“Fine,” he admitted in defeat, smiling shyly. “I like spending time with you. I mean, obviously I do,” he added. It was dark outside but it was as clear as day that Quentin’s cheeks were rosy pink._

_Eliot’s were too._

_“Come on, let’s head back. Let me pour you a glass of wine.”_

_“Is this going to be a nightly thing or something?”_

_“Why the fuck not?” Eliot said with a smile._

_____

“What do you guys think of this one?” Julia asked, holding up a short, floral print dress.

“Uh, well, it’s sort of grandma-ish, don’t you think?” Quentin hesitantly told her.

“For once, I agree with Q,” Margo chimed in. “Definitely not the look for you.”

She groaned. “I give up then.”

Julia had announced to the group on their way to the city that she had completely forgotten that she had a wedding to attend this week after she gets back to LA. So, thanks to Margo's brilliant suggestion that they change their plans for the day, they ended up spending a good portion of the morning looking through far too expensive boutiques in Manhattan, trying to find the perfect outfit for her. The original plan was to just do a bunch of touristy things that Julia never got the chance to do growing up, like going to fine art museums and such. This was fine too, though, but he could tell Quentin was far from enjoying himself.

_Poor baby._

Margo even tried to pick out a few outfits for him to help with his “tragic wardrobe,” but that just made things worse. He was getting more and more irritable as the day went on. 

“What about that black dress I showed you? The one with the pockets. I thought you said dresses with pockets are cool,” Quentin pointed out.

A look of horror was plastered across Julia's face. “Q, my _mom_ has that same exact dress! Do you want me to look like a 60-year-old woman?"

"Then stop asking me for opinions, Jules!"

Margo and Eliot shared an amused look with one another. 

Julia groaned. “I give up, I’m still buying that pair of heels I liked, though. Come on, Q. Wait in line with me,” she said, grabbing his hand. 

“But that line hasn’t moved at all since we got here. I’m not waiting in that. You literally own a pair of shoes that look identical to those,” he whined.

She gave him a look. 

“Fine,” he groaned, letting her tug him towards the back of the line. 

“His shitty mood is your fault. You know that, right?” Eliot said once Julia and Quentin were out of earshot. 

“My fault? How?” she retorted.

“Because _you’re_ the one who suggested we go shopping. You know he hates shopping.”

“Oh, because he would have had _such_ a better time going to an art museum,” she rolled her eyes. 

“He would have found something to nerd out over in there,” he shrugged. 

“No, _you_ just wanted an excuse to showcase your useless art knowledge. You wanted to _impress_ him,” she poked his chest. 

“So?” And it wasn’t _useless_ knowledge. So disrespectful.

He snuck a glance back over at Julia and Quentin. They had moved up barely an inch in the line. Quentin was standing there, looking grumpy as can be as Julia fussed with his hair that was hanging in front of his face. 

Eliot smiled fondly. 

“Come on, Romeo, let’s go wait outside,” Margo said, pulling on his arm.

_Romeo._

Did that make Quentin his Juliet?

The idea was tempting, but he'd rather they not be star crossed lovers who die for each other. 

Far too depressing. 

“So, how come you and Q aren’t all over each other?” she asked as they sat down on a bench outside.

He certainly would be if he were alone with Q, but he wouldn’t mention that. 

“Why would we be?” he furrowed his brows.

“Well I just assumed after last night…” she trailed off.

Really?

“He had a nightmare. He didn’t suck my dick, Bambi,” he said flatly. 

“But he sucked your fingers,” she smirked. “Not even surprised in the slightest that he has an oral fixation.”

He rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

Honestly, he really shouldn’t have. Telling Margo every bit of his life was something he was so used to, but every time he’d talk about Quentin lately it just felt wrong, like he was betraying Quentin’s trust. 

“Oh well. Too late,” she smiled sweetly. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?”

“The plan to sweep that nerd off his feet?”

“Margo, how many times do I have to tell you that my life isn't a Rom-Com?” he sighed.

“You’re _obsessed_ with him though. Either make a damn move or get over him. The whole situation is really starting to get boring.”

“I am not _obsessed,”_ he gasped.

Completely and unabashedly infatuated with him?

Most definitely.

Obsessed?

Well.

Okay, maybe yes. 

She gave him a look.

“Fine, I see your point. I’ll do something about it, okay?”

_____

“How much further is the next shop?” Quentin blurted out.

“6 blocks.”

“My feet hurt,” he grumbled. 

“Stop whining,” Margo said, before continuing on with her conversation with Julia. Eliot wasn't really listening too intently, but from the bits and pieces he had gathered, Julia was currently fawning over her date for the wedding. It was some guy named James that she met on the plane when she first moved there. The whole situation sounded terribly basic. Eliot was disinterested. The two of them were a couple of feet ahead of the boys and honestly, they seemed to be getting on quite well. Eliot was starting to think Quentin was getting a little bit jealous of the lack of attention from the girls.

Needy baby. 

Good thing Eliot was here to come to the rescue.

He caught up to Margo and grabbed her elbow gently. “Q and I will meet you there. He needs a break,” he told her. Margo peeked behind her at Quentin who was sulkily trudging along, dragging his feet. She shook her head. “So pathetic. Fine. Take him away. I’ll text you if we leave before you get there,” she told him. 

He smiled and pecked her on the cheek before turning back to Q. 

Eliot stopped in his tracks, but Quentin wasn’t paying attention one bit so he walked straight into him, just like when they had first met. 

“Fuck,” he blurted out as Eliot bit back a laugh. He grabbed Quentin’s shoulder’s, steadying him. “C’mon, we’re going on a little detour.” 

Quentin tilted his head to the side, confused. 

“Where?”

“Does it matter?” 

Quentin’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape, but he stayed quiet. 

“That’s what I thought,” Eliot winked, slipping his hand into Quentin’s, intertwining their fingers together. Quentin’s palm was a little bit sweaty. Eliot didn’t mind. He simply squeezed the boy’s hand and led him towards the crosswalk. 

“Coffee?” Quentin mumbled as Eliot pushed the door open to a coffee shop a couple of minutes later. It was a small chain that Eliot used to go to quite a bit. 

“I know you’re a coffee snob, but give the place a chance. I think you’ll like it here.”

“We’ll see," Quentin said, purposely being difficult. 

“I can’t believe you ordered tea.” Eliot complained after paying for both of their drinks. 

“At least I know tea won’t disappoint me,” Quentin shrugged, sitting down with Eliot at a booth. There weren’t too many people there luckily.

It was relatively quiet.

Peaceful. 

“You know this is like the most we’ve ever hung out with each other,” Quentin stated after a couple of moments of silence. 

“What do you mean? We hang out all the time,” Eliot pointed out, amused. 

“You know exactly what I mean,” Quentin rolled his eyes.

“Do I?”

He did. It was like their friendship had gone from zero to 100 in a matter of days. Drinking buddies to suddenly attached at the hip. It was intense, but Eliot wouldn't change it for the world. Well, that's not entirely true. He probably would have asked Q out the day they first met, if he was given a do-over. But it's fine, he's getting there. He'd work up the nerve to make a move. Eventually. 

“I was just trying to tell you that it’s uh, nice. Getting to spend more time with you, I mean,” he added, his cute little cheeks blushing up a storm as he focussed intensely on the steaming cup of tea before him. 

_Let me see those pretty eyes of yours?_

Quentin’s left hand was resting on the table, looking lonely as hell. It was just _begging_ to be held. Eliot, being the kind soul that he is, reached out and placed his palm on top. Quentin didn’t even flinch. It was as if he had just been expecting it to happen. 

So he's held his hand _twice_ within the past 20 minutes and Quentin has seemed perfectly okay with it. He didn't even seem anxious about it. Not one bit.

What an interesting plot development.

God, they needed to talk. Badly.

Not here, though.

In private. 

Tonight?

But what about Julia?

He’d worry about that later, right now it was more important to focus on the pretty boy sitting with him. 

The two of them sat there for about 20 minutes or so, just talking about whatever popped into their heads. Quentin had been telling him about how he and Julia met. He was rambling and Eliot couldn't get a word in edgewise even if he wanted to, but he didn't mind one bit. He was content with listening, especially considering Quentin's mood had significantly improved. Yes, Eliot would be taking _all_ the credit for this small achievement.

“I really am happy you’re spending the day with us,” Quentin suddenly said out of nowhere, a sweet smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair a bit. 

_Darling._

“Well, you should thank Margo for that. We were originally going to reorganize my closet but the moment she started talking to Julia she demanded we tag along. She has some sort of severe fear of missing out problem,” he laughed. 

“They seem to be getting along well,” Quentin stated, an edge to his voice. 

“Aww, Q. There's no reason to be jealous."

He shot Eliot an _adorable_ little glare as he tore his hand away from Eliot’s.

“Hey. I know you’re a brat, but no reason to take it out on me,” he said, taking Quentin’s hand back into his, where it belonged.

Quentin sunk a bit in his seat and looked around, slightly paranoid that everyone was eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“Can you, like, not say things like that? It’s _embarrassing,”_ he begged with a hushed whisper.

"You're only embarrassed because you know it's true," he teased, gently nudging Quentin's foot with his own.

From the look in his eyes, Eliot was pretty sure that Quentin was about 2 seconds away from telling him to 'shut up.'

"Now, be a good boy and drink your tea before it gets cold."

______

The group had now visited more shops than Eliot could count on his fingers and _everyone_ was starting to get a tad irritable. At least Quentin had stopped verbally complaining. Well, for now. Eliot figured it wouldn't last too much longer. Currently, they were deep into the touristy part of Manhattan and somehow had ended up at Lincoln Center. "Why don't we take a break?" Julia suggested.

Everyone agreed. 

“Come on, sweetpea, you can help me take some cute pictures for Instagram," Margo told Quentin as she linked her arm through his. 

“How about near that fountain over there?"

“Quentin, don’t be cliche. I’m not a tourist," she scrunched up her nose in disgust.

“Well, _I_ on the other hand am in fact a tourist today. Come sit by the fountain with me?” Julia asked Eliot.

Oh, dear. 

He forced a smile. 

“Sounds perfect." 

They sat down just as Margo tugged Quentin towards a secluded little area not too far away with some trees covered in fairy lights.

“So is this the shovel talk?” There was no point in making small talk when he had a pretty good idea of what Julia actually wanted to get out of this conversation. Was he _ready_ for the shovel talk, though? He wasn’t entirely sure. 

She laughed, leaning back on the bench as she crossed one leg over the other.

“I mean, it can be if you want? But according to Quentin, there’s nothing going on between you two, so…”

His heart sank.

Just a bit.

Okay, a lot.

“Oh,” is all he said. 

“Don’t get all sulky. He’s just a very, _very_ dumb boy."

He wanted to protest -- defend Q’s honor. How rude. Quentin is the _smartest_ boy. Such a smart, _good--_

“He thinks _you_ just want to be friends,” she clarified. 

“He genuinely believes that?” Eliot frowned. 

How could he _possibly_ think that? 

_Baby._

No. Never. He felt a pang of hurt in his chest at the thought of his sweet, sweet boy thinking for even one second that Eliot wasn’t completely _whipped_ for him. 

She shrugged. “Apparently so. But even if he did think you felt the same, his asshole of a brain would most likely convince him he’s not good enough for you," she oh so casually explained as she took some chapstick out of her purse, as if the words flowing from her lips weren't a massive deal that currently was causing Eliot immense distress.

How could what she was saying be even slightly true?

If anything, Eliot didn’t deserve Quentin. Not the other way around. 

He was such a good-hearted boy, and so thoughtful, and beautiful, and --

“That’s what I mostly wanted to talk to you about,” she said abruptly, clearing her throat a bit. “His mental health. Has he, uh, been okay?” 

Well, the casualness certainly was gone. 

The air suddenly felt far too heavy for comfort.

Eliot knew that Quentin was a bit of anxious mess (but a _cute_ anxious mess) and had sort of assumed he had at least a smidge of depression due to his occasional self deprecating comments, but Quentin had never really said it flat out. 

“I mean, I guess?” he said. “Is this really the time or place to be discussing this, though?” Eliot furrowed his brows. 

He’d rather be having the shovel talk right now. 

“Well no, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk so I figured better now than never?” Julia seemed uncertain with her words, and Eliot didn’t exactly blame her. “Real” conversations about topics that actually mattered have never been a favorite of his. Playful quips utilized as a deflection technique were much more up his alley. He snuck a peek over to the side where Margo was gracefully posing for Q. They were far enough away that they were out of earshot, but they were close enough that Eliot felt gross discussing Quentin’s personal life without his consent. 

Fuck it. 

He'd deal with the consequences later.

“I just, I assumed since you two are such good friends that you’d uhm, know,” she added before he had a chance to speak.

Eliot wanted to curl up in a ball and hide forever. Or at least until Julia went back to California. 

He cleared his throat a bit and rolled his shoulders back, attempting to get rid of the growing tension in his body. 

“Yeah, about that,” he took a breath in. “I’m not really sure what exactly Q’s told you, but for the first few weeks, our friendship so to speak mostly consisted of us being intoxicated together, so I’m probably not the best person to be asking about his well being.” Eliot wanted to _cringe_ just listening to himself speak. It sounded even worse when he said it out loud. 

Julia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Or maybe it was just disappointment. It surely wouldn't be the first time someone was disappointed in Eliot. “I know we had a glass of wine last night, but that’s a regular thing between you two? He really shouldn’t be drinking that much. It fucks with his meds.”

“No, he only would ever have 2 glasses max. I swear," he reassured her. Well, except that one time, but he’d keep that tidbit of information to himself. 

Wait.

“He’s on meds?”

He didn’t know that. He should have known that. _Why_ didn’t he know that? 

_Damnit El, it’s none of your business. If Quentin wanted you to know, he would have told you._

“Yes," she said slowly. 

“Well, I didn’t know,” he told her quietly, looking over at the fountain. It was a nice distraction from the look of utter disappointment (Yes, he had 100% decided now that this was unfortunately the appropriate term for what he was witnessing) on Julia’s face. She had expected Eliot to be taking care of Quentin, that much was certainly clear. He was apparently doing a shit job so far, though. 

“He’s going to be pissed that I told you then,” she sighed. 

“Yeah, probably. I won’t mention it to him though?” he told her with a weak smile. 

“No, it’s okay. I just would have assumed you’d at least see him taking them,” she said, confused. “They’re mostly for his depression. It gets bad sometimes."

“How bad?” he hesitantly asked, unsure if he genuinely wanted the answer. 

Quentin had seemed fine, for the most part. He mostly just seemed a little anxious. Should Eliot have been paying closer attention to him?

“Really fucking bad. Like won’t have the energy to get out of bed for weeks kind of bad. This is actually the longest he’s ever held down a job. He was doing pretty good when I left. Super proud of him.”

_("Something came up last minute and I couldn’t go”)_

Shit.

“Is that why he had to drop out of Yale?” Eliot blurted out. He knew it was something Quentin didn't want to talk about. For that reason, he had never pried, but he just couldn't help himself today.

Her body visibly tensed. “That’s uhm, that’s a whole other story. I’ve seriously said far too much. If Q wants you to know about it, he’ll tell you. I really should just shut up now.” 

Eliot felt his hands gripping the edge of the bench, his knuckles going white.

Yes, she most definitely had probably said too much. She had opened a vault, though, and now Eliot just had so many questions.

“He’s been having nightmares lately,” he admitted, not looking at her. “Pretty awful ones. Is that something--”

“Quentin, I swear you should have gone into photography," he heard Margo say, causing Eliot to shut his mouth.

Margo was smiling radiantly as she walked towards them with Q, her eyes focusing on the screen of her phone.

“Oh shush,” Quentin mumbled sheepishly as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

_Sweet boy, just take a compliment._

“Seriously, you’re officially my new photographer,” Margo declared before turning her attention to Eliot, “El, you’re fired.”

Quentin had this cute little smile on his face. He looked _genuinely_ happy. It was such an upgrade from this morning. However, the second his gaze landed on Eliot, his face fell. 

Fuck. 

_Perk up, Eliot._

He forced a smile. “Hey. That's fine by me,” he told Margo. 

Quentin wasn’t buying it. 

Julia could tell something was off. “Hey Margo, let me see the photos?” she asked, standing up to walk over towards her.

The two girls were suddenly in their own little world as Margo proudly showed off the photos Quentin had taken.

“What’s wrong?” Quentin asked quietly as he took Julia’s spot on the bench. 

Eliot shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“El.”

“Seriously, Q. It’s fine. We can talk about it later?”

“Are we really going to talk about it, or are you just saying that to get me off your back?” he asked bluntly. 

Well shit. 

“No, Quentin. I really will talk about it with you later. It’s just that we’re out right now. It’d be better to discuss it alone,” he rambled with pleading eyes. 

He was afraid of how Q would react.

Actually, he was terrified.

Considering he has yet to confide in Eliot about it, forcing Quentin to talk about his depression, especially with the girls two feet away, truly just sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. 

What if Q cried?

Hell, what if _Eliot_ cried?

Quentin frowned. “Fine. Don’t tell me."

_Baby. Don’t be mad._

“Q, really. Nothing’s wrong. Please don’t be upset.”

Okay, that’s not _exactly_ true. Quentin’s apparently been suffering and Eliot had no fucking idea until now. Things were far from okay right now. 

“You know, you being closed off as hell is really starting to get old,” Quentin snapped before going to catch up with Julia and Margo, leaving Eliot sitting there a little bit speechless.

What the fuck just happened?

_____

Quentin was ignoring him.

He _never_ ignored Eliot. 

At first, Eliot was sad as hell about the whole situation, but now he was just plain irritated. 

Quentin was being such a _brat._

And not in a cute way this time. 

(Okay maybe he was being a _little_ bit cute. But _only_ a little. Not an ounce more than that.)

How did he go from having such a lovely morning with this boy to _this?_

Quentin had been so sweet with him at breakfast and they had a nice time at the coffee shop...

He was a little afraid that Q would be weird after last night, regarding the whole _Daddy_ thing. He really hoped he wouldn’t be though, especially considering he seemed _into_ it. It was as if he had just been dying to say it. Eliot was a little caught off guard, to say the least, but certainly not at all in a bad way. 

( _“You think you can fall back asleep now?”_

 _“I’ll try, Daddy.”_ )

Instead of there being a weird tension between them though, things had been _good_ , until now. 

They were currently on break number two of the day, and Eliot was deep into wallowing in self-pity, so when the girls suggested they all should get some ice cream, Eliot had declined. He _normally_ would have wanted some, but his appetite was gone due to the fact that a certain sulky boy was trying to pretend Eliot didn't exist at the moment. Apparently Q also had no appetite, because he stayed behind with Eliot, his mortal enemy, whilst Julia and Margo headed inside the ice cream shop. 

Quentin was sitting on the far end, swinging his feet a little as he watched a squirrel climbing a nearby tree, avoiding eye contact with Eliot at all costs. 

_Pay attention to me._

_This isn’t fun, Q._

_Give Daddy a little smile?_

_Please?_

He sighed, moving a bit on the bench so he could drop his feet into Quentin’s lap. “Talk to me. It’s been _hours.”_

“Nope,” Quentin said after a moment, popping the ‘p.’

Eliot couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. 

Okay, so the cuteness is definitely back. 

Eliot certainly isn't complaining.

“You know, technically that was talking,” Eliot pointed out. “So if you’re trying to give me the silent treatment, I think that means you lost?” 

He could just tell that he was getting under Quentin’s skin and that he possibly was going to blow up any second now. 

Good. 

At least he’d be talking to him. 

Eliot leaned his arm on the armrest a bit as he just sat there, admiring Quentin. He watched as the boy started to anxiously squirm, obviously feeling Eliot's gaze on him. Eliot, feeling pleased with the minimal progress he's made, decided to give Q a break. So, he gracefully removed his feet from the boy's lap and sat properly on the bench before focussing his attention on his phone, giving Quentin a bit of space as a treat that he didn't necessarily earn. But whatever. Eliot was a pushover. Oh fucking well. 

“We got you ice cream anyway,” Margo said as her and Julia walked over to them a few agonizingly long minutes later. “Vanilla for El,” she said, handing him the ice cream cone. “And chocolate with rainbow sprinkles for the baby,” she teased, handing the second one to Quentin. 

_Really,_ Margo?

Julia didn’t seem to get the joke, but Quentin sure as hell did. For a split second Quentin’s bitter scowl seemed to vanish, and it was replaced with sheer embarrassment as his shoulders tensed up. The poor boy wanted to _hide_. Quentin shot Eliot a glare before taking the ice cream from Margo. “Thanks,” he muttered. 

“Come on, we can eat and walk. The next shop is only 3 blocks away,” Margo said, gesturing for the boys to stand up. 

“Maybe don’t try and blatantly embarrass him about last night when he’s already pissed at me, yeah?” Eliot hissed in Margo’s ear as they started walking. 

“Not my fault you fucked up. What’d you do anyway?” she asked.

Julia and Quentin were a couple of steps in front of them. Q was quietly licking his ice cream, a disinterested look on his face as Julia rambled on happily about something. Damn that boy could really hold a grudge. 

“Nothing. He’s just being so pissy. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Sounds like he needs a spanking,” she teased.

“You're hilarious, you know that?” he sarcastically said, tossing his barely touched ice cream in a nearby trash can as they continued to walk.

She probably was right, to be honest, but Q wasn't his sub. 

Yet.

So, he'd have to save that for another day, unfortunately. 

"Hmm, I've been told once or twice."

_____

They now were officially on break number 3 of the day from shopping, due to the fact that by this point, _everyone_ was getting pretty tired of it. So, they decided to do something that Julia and Quentin had originally planned to do today -- go to a museum. They were waiting in line to purchase their tickets when Eliot’s gaze landed on Quentin for the hundredth time that day. 

It was nearly 4 PM and Quentin hasn’t said a single word to him since they got ice cream earlier, which was at _noon_. 

It was excruciating. 

Quentin just wasn’t being fair. 

Fuck this. 

“Quentin and I are going home for a bit. He’s not feeling too well,” Eliot announced suddenly. “We’ll meet you at your place tonight?” he said to Margo. They all had plans for a movie night at Margo's tonight. Eliot wasn't too excited about the idea considering it's already been a pretty long day, but Julia seemed to be looking forward to it, so he'd still make an effort to make the rest of her stay as enjoyable as possible.

“Uh--” Quentin started, but Eliot shot him a glare. 

He shut his mouth.

Margo raised a brow. “Well okay. Feel better, Quentin,” she unconvincingly said.

Quentin was giving Julia a pleading look, begging her for help. 

She bit her lip and gave him a look in return that said _‘Sorry. You’re on your own.’_

“C’mon,” Eliot muttered. They had taken the subway to Manhattan, per Julia’s request (She had apparently “missed it dearly.”), but Eliot decided they were taking a cab back -- more difficult for Quentin to try and escape that way.

“You know this is technically kidnapping,” Quentin grumbled as he slid into the back seat of the cab after Eliot. 

After giving the driver the address of their apartment, Eliot settled into his seat and shut his eyes, rubbing his temples. He was getting a massive headache, thanks to the cute boy sitting next to him. 

Quentin decided to go back to being silent as he sat there, arms crossed, refusing to look in Eliot’s direction. Eliot almost wanted to smile as he glanced over at him. _Almost._ Even when he was pissed at Eliot, he was just so damn adorable. All he wanted to do was lean over and give the boy's adorable little cheek a pinch, but he stayed on his very best behavior and kept his hands neatly folded in his lap, far away from Quentin's cute face. 

However, he couldn’t help himself from leaning over, his lips dangerously close to grazing Quentin’s ear. “You know, if you keep glaring like a pissed off toddler, your face is going to get stuck like that," he whispered.

“Fuck off, I’m not in the mood,” Quentin muttered, adjusting his focus from the back of the seat, in order see out the window instead. 

Eliot rolled his eyes and smiled, he wasn’t surprised by the response one bit. 

When they stepped inside the apartment, Eliot was about to head straight to the wine, but he decided they should probably both be sober for this. Quentin shut the door behind him and then immediately proceeded to walk away from Eliot. 

“Uh, where are you going?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well apparently I’m sick, so I should probably take a nap,” Q said flatly.

This boy was going to be the death of him. 

“No. We’re talking. Now.” Eliot told him, an edge to his voice that he didn't exactly care for, but it was necessary. 

Quentin’s eyes widened ever so slightly before nodding. “Uhm, okay I guess." 

_Good boy._

Eliot gestured for Quentin to follow him. He ended up sitting down on the floor, in Quentin’s favorite spot by the coffee table. Quentin sat down across from him, looking _stressed._ Eliot just wanted to pull him into his lap and make everything better. 

They needed to talk first though. 

Ugh. 

“So you’re mad at me,” Eliot stated, leaning back onto his palms. 

Quentin shrugged. 

“Will you _please_ talk to me?” Eliot sighed, about to just give up.

Quentin wasn’t even looking at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally mumbled, keeping his head down.

“What was that?” Eliot mused, a small teasing smile on his lips. 

“I said I was sorry,” Quentin said a bit louder as he finally looked up. 

“For?” Eliot tilted his head to the side. 

“For being mean,” he looked back down in shame. 

“Yeah, you were pretty mean today,” Eliot replied. “I don’t think I deserved that,” he added. 

“No, but--” Quentin started, but cut himself off, sighing. 

“Go on,” Eliot encouraged, sitting up straight. 

He wanted to reach out and grab Quentin’s hands that were absentmindedly playing with the fringe of Eliot’s precious vintage rug. He felt the urge to tell him to stop that, but he figured now wasn’t the time to nag him. 

_Be nice. He’s talking to you. Don’t push it._

“You’re just so closed off. It’s irritating as hell. Just be open with me, for _once,”_ he begged with pleading eyes. 

Well, Eliot wasn’t exactly prepared for Quentin to just blatantly call him out like that. 

Eliot blinked. 

Quentin continued. 

“It’s like, I don’t even know anything about you.”

_Ouch._

What the _hell_ was he supposed to say to that? 

He opened his mouth to protest, but Quentin just kept going. It was as if Eliot had awakened something festering inside Quentin for months now.

“When something’s bothering you, you just deflect. I know I do it too sometimes, but fuck El, you’re way worse. Why can’t you just be real with me? Just a bit?”

Eliot gulped, running a hand through his hair. This really wasn’t how he was expecting the night to go. He thought they’d come to terms that earlier in the city was just a big misunderstanding. Eliot would explain that he just gives a shit about Q, and that’s why he was upset because Quentin had kept such a big part of him a secret and--

“Are you even listening to me?” Quentin asked softly, his big brown eyes full of sadness _._ It was heartbreaking. 

He desperately needed to make things better.

This breathtaking boy sitting in front of him was _sad_ because of _him._

“Yes, sorry. I’m listening. I swear,” he quickly said as he sat up straighter.

Time to end the internal pity party. 

_Get your shit together._

Quentin sighed, nervously running a hand through his hair for probably the 10th time since they had sat down together. “I really am sorry for getting so pissed at you today, but it’s just that you clearly were upset about something earlier. It's probably not any of my business, but you obviously weren’t okay, yet you flat out lied to my face and had the audacity to say you were. It was just so damn insulting, Eliot. Do you think I’m stupid or something?” He had a pained expression on his face and it genuinely made Eliot want to _cry_ _._

“I don’t think you’re stupid. I could never think that. Ever,” Eliot furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“Then why treat me like I am?”

“Because I’m scared,” he blurted out quickly before he could stop himself.

Quentin’s facial features softened significantly. “Scared of what?”

“Opening up is hard, Q. But-- but that’s not even what was going on today, I swear. I’m not the only one who keeps things a secret,” he said.

There we go, deflecting as always.

 _Way to go, El._

“Uh, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sorry, I’m doing it again,” Eliot groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. Just say it. Get it over with. “Julia told me that you have some really fucking horrible depression. I know we were talking about me and my issues, but you wanted to know why I was upset. Well, that’s why. I’m sorry for deflecting. It’s just...a habit.” 

He was afraid to open his eyes again, to face Quentin. He was digging himself into quite a fucking deep hole and he wasn’t entirely sure how to get himself out of it. 

Quentin wasn’t speaking up.

Had he just gotten up and abandoned Eliot right here in the middle of the living room?

Eliot slowly opened his eyes.

Quentin was still here, sitting in the same position on the floor. 

He was back to not looking at Eliot, though. 

His eyes were focused intently on the floor. Also, Q's posture wasn’t normally very good, but right now it was exceptionally bad due to his severely slumped shoulders. It wasn't a very nice sight to witness.

“Q?”

Was he sad?

Oh, God. Was he going to cry?

“She had no fucking right to talk to you about that."

Oh.

Nope. Not sad.

_Mad._

“I know, but she meant well. She just wanted to make sure you were doing alright without her,” he said, starting to reach out to grab one of Q’s hands in his, but he stopped himself. 

“Then she could have asked me herself,” he snapped, looking up at Eliot with an icy glare. 

Eliot’s breath hitched ever so slightly, surprised by the tone. 

“I know, Q,” he sighed. “I’m still glad she told me, though, because I honestly doubt you were ever planning on telling me."

“That’s not fair,” Quentin said quietly, his voice wavering ever so slightly. 

“It’s not? Because you’re mad at me for not being genuine with you, when you’re doing the same damn thing, Q. Why didn’t you tell me how bad your depression is? I mean, I figured you had at least some. You’ve hinted at it occasionally. But I didn’t know it was... _bad.”_

“Because it’s none of your business?”

Eliot felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Fuck that hurt to hear. 

“No, Quentin. It may not have been a few weeks ago, but it sure as hell is now,” he said, even though he wasn’t entirely confident in his words. 

Quentin pursed his lips.

_Fuck it. Just go for it._

“I _know_ you like it when I take care of you, Q. So how the hell am I supposed to do that properly when you’ve been hiding a major aspect of your life? Can you even imagine how I felt when Julia told me that alcohol doesn’t mix well with your meds? It made me feel just fucking great knowing that we’ve gone through a bottle of wine almost nightly together since I moved in. _That’s_ why I was so upset earlier, and I think I had every right to be,” Eliot hadn’t intended to raise his voice at him, but he did. He felt bad about it, but it needed to be said. He also wanted to ask if Quentin was even taking his meds, but he was honestly a little afraid that might earn him a slap, so he held back. For now. 

Quentin flinched, looking down. “Stop scolding me, you’re not my _daddy.”_

“No, but you want me to be,” Eliot told him bluntly. 

Quentin inhaled sharply. 

Then came silence. 

Come on, Q. _Say something._

“T-that’s not true.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted him to say. 

“You wanted me to be honest with you, and that’s what I’m doing. I think it’s only fair you do the same, Q,” he sighed. 

Quentin’s fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“Please, why are you making me talk about this?” he whimpered in distress. 

"I mean, you don't _have_ to if you don't want to. I personally believe you _do_ want to discuss it, though."

“It’s just embarrassing,” Quentin looked away. 

“Why?” Eliot leaned closer. 

“Because you don’t feel the same about me!”

_Here we fucking go._

“Q, what the actual fuck? Seriously, just, what?” 

So apparently Julia was right. 

Unfortunately.

"Don't make me say it again, please. I already feel like an idiot."

“Quentin, that’s honestly the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, and you’ve said quite a few questionable things,” Eliot couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small laugh at the utter absurdity of the situation. 

Quentin peaked up and Eliot was immediately met with a pissed off look.

“Thanks for making me feel worse.”

“Quentin, I’m not laughing at you, I swear. Do you legitimately think I don’t absolutely adore you?”

Quentin shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re lying to yourself, Q. You have to know deep down inside that I do,” he urged. 

Eliot watched as Quentin just sat there, pondering his thoughts for a bit. 

Did he seriously have to even think about this? 

Was it not painfully obvious that Quentin was the best thing to ever happen to him?

“Why would you, though?” he asked quietly. “Like me?” he clarified. 

“Quentin, it’s not cute to fish for compliments.”

“I’m not,” he said, clearly exasperated. “I just -- You’re _you_ and I’m _me._ I have literally nothing to offer you, El.”

_Baby._

"Come here,” he sighed and attempted to pull Q into his lap. He didn’t argue, thankfully. 

He locked his arms around Quentin’s waist, holding him in place. 

Despite the frown on the boy’s face, Quentin instantly relaxed in Eliot’s arms like he always did, burying his face into the crook of his neck. 

“You’re more than enough for me, Q,” he murmured. “As sappy as it sounds, all I want to do is make you happy. It honestly blows my mind that you haven’t realized that I’ve had it bad for you since the day we met,” he told him with a sad smile. 

“I’m not, I’m not your type though,” it came out muffled against Eliot’s skin.

“Oh really? And who _is_ my type then? Because last I checked, I’ve always had a thing for adorable little nerds with pretty hair,” he said, reaching up to give Quentin’s soft hair a gentle tug. It felt nice in his hands. What was even nicer, though, was the glorious little moan that Quentin let out against Eliot’s neck.

His body tensed in response, and so did Quentin’s, most likely in embarrassment. 

So Q’s got a hair pulling kink? 

Maybe that’s why he kept it so long. 

Eliot would have to keep that in mind for another time. 

_Don’t get ahead of yourself, El._

“S-sorry,” Q stuttered out nervously.

He knows they were having a good talk -- a _meaningful_ talk, but damn he’d like to hear that lovely sound again. It would be so easy to just give the boy’s hair another little tug, maybe a teensy bit harder even. 

So, before he could overthink it, he twirled a bit more of Quentin’s locks around his finger and _tugged_. As expected, Quentin moaned again, this time _louder._ Eliot bit his lip. This time, _Eliot_ should be the one to apologize. He didn’t want to though. So, he didn’t. 

Eliot kept one of his hands in Quentin’s hair, gently scratching his head in a soothing manner as he slipped the thumb of his other hand ever so slightly underneath Q’s cotton t-shirt. His skin was soft, even softer than his gorgeous hair that he loved so much. He felt Quentin sigh as Eliot traced the dip of his waist gently with the pad of his thumb. 

They should go back to talking.

They _needed_ to go back to talking.

But Quentin just seemed so relaxed, which was a big improvement from the angsty boy Eliot had been dealing with all day. He honestly wouldn’t mind just sitting here with Q in his arms for a few hours. Although his legs probably would start to fall asleep, it would without a doubt be worth it.

The moment was short-lived, however, because much to Eliot’s disappointment, Quentin pulled away. The warm and comforting feeling of Quentin’s hot breath on his neck was replaced with cool air, making his skin feel bare. He almost frowned at the feeling, but Q was now looking him dead in the eyes. Their faces were close, but not nearly close enough for Eliot’s liking. 

“Hey there,” Eliot smiled softly, taking his hand out of Quentin’s hair so he could place it on his other hip. 

“Hi,” Quentin whispered. His breathing was slow and steady. He breathed out and Eliot could feel his breath hit his lips. Fuck. What had they even been talking about before? 

His eyes locked with Quentin’s just for a moment before he watched as the boy’s eyes flickered down to Eliot’s lips.

Once.

Twice.

Three times. 

Did he want to--?

Should Eliot just go for it?

In the middle of arguing with himself about whether or not he should, the decision was made for him when he suddenly witnessed Quentin surging forward, closing the distance. 

The kiss barely lasted a few seconds, and Eliot was so caught off guard that he didn’t even kiss back. 

Quentin pulled away, a look of rejection and embarrassment obvious on his face. 

_No, baby._

He carefully moved one of his hands to cup the side of Quentin’s face as he leaned in and pressed his lips onto his without an ounce of hesitation.

He wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. 

_______

Kissing Eliot had surpassed Quentin’s expectations (And his expectations were pretty damn high because it was _Eliot._ No further explanation than that was necessary _)._ His lips were soft and tasted faintly of cherry chapstick. It was perfect. 

His brain was going haywire. 

Eliot was kissing him. 

Eliot was kissing him. 

_Holy shit_ Eliot was kissing him.

Quentin was pretty sure he looked like the happiest boy on earth as Eliot finally pulled away so they could catch their breaths. Eliot had a dazed look in his eyes that was accompanied by a breathtaking smile.

Okay so _maybe_ Julia was right. _Maybe_ Eliot did have feelings for Quentin. _Maybe_ Quentin’s feelings weren’t one-sided after all. 

“So you like me,” Quentin breathed out and Eliot _laughed_. "Yes, Q. I do. Very much so. Do I need to kiss you again to prove it?"

He couldn’t stop a big, dopey smile from forming on his face. 

Eliot’s smile was matching. “You’re so damn cute,” he said, pinching Quentin’s cheek playfully. 

Quentin’s smile grew. 

Eliot thinks he’s _cute._

 _Eliot_ , who is the most attractive man he’s ever seen in his entire life, thinks _Quentin_ is _cute._

Eliot was still looking at him with that look full of pure adoration. 

It was overwhelming.

Quentin wanted to hide.

So he did. 

Within seconds, his face was buried once again in Eliot’s neck.

He felt Eliot’s body shake with laughter. “There’s no need to be shy sweetheart,” Eliot whispered in his ear before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. “It’s just me. You’re safe with me. You always will be,” he promised. 

Safe.

Such an appealing concept.

Safe from what though, exactly?

Safe from his brain that liked to attack him on a daily basis? Safe from the outside world that he constantly felt like a failure in? Safe from those damn nightmares that make him feel like a pathetic child?

Maybe all of those things?

Eliot was right though. He did make him feel safe. It was a good feeling. Something he definitely wouldn’t mind getting used to. 

He slowly pulled away from his safe little hideaway in order to look at Eliot. His expression was sincere. “You’re such a good boy, you know that?” Eliot murmured, pushing Quentin’s hair out of his eyes. 

Quentin flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. “Can you stop calling me that?”

“But you like it,” Eliot’s voice sounded confused.

“I don’t.”

_Liar._

“It’s weird,” Quentin went on to say, opening his eyes.

“But you do like it. You _like_ the praise. Even though I usually say it as a joke, your body still goes lax. You love it, Q.” Eliot wasn’t letting it go. “You can deny the daddy thing all you want, but don’t you dare act like for one second that you don’t have a praise kink, Q. Don't worry, though. I think it's cute,” he reassured with a playful gleam in his eyes. “But if you genuinely want me to stop, I will,” Eliot added on a serious note.

_Don’t please._

“You told Margo,” he blurted out.

“I did, and I’m sorry,” Eliot told him softly. 

“She made fun of me,” Quentin mumbled sadly. 

“What? No, I swear she wasn’t. She was just kidding, Q. Margo doesn’t think what we’re into is weird at all, I _promise.”_

What _we’re_ into-- 

So did that mean--

Eliot liked it too?

Oh.

Oh.

_Oh._

Quentin felt his cheeks getting warm at the thought. 

“We don’t have to talk about it right now if it makes you uncomfortable. We can discuss it another time if you’d like. I mean, I don’t know if it’s just like a coping mechanism for you or uh, sexual,” Eliot trailed off and cleared his throat a bit, his own cheeks going slightly pink, “but I just want you to know that I’m not going to judge. I swear, okay? I mean, let’s not forget that I brought the whole daddy thing up in the first place. So if anyone at all should be embarrassed in the slightest, it’s me. Not you,” he said with a weak smile, giving Quentin's hips a comforting little squeeze.

He was trying to make Quentin feel better. 

Quentin swallowed. “We can talk about it now. I-if you want,” he said, trying to be brave. 

Eliot’s eyebrows rose in obvious surprise. 

“Well shit. I--” Eliot’s phone started ringing, cutting him off. He gave Quentin an apologetic look as he slipped the phone out of his pocket so he could answer it. Quentin sighed in response and just sat there, his fingers playing with Eliot’s tie. It was soft and silky. It felt expensive and very nice beneath his fingertips. 

Seriously though, how did Eliot afford such nice things?

Quentin wanted nice things.

No fair. 

He wasn’t looking at Eliot’s face, but he was almost positive Eliot was rolling his eyes as the person on the other end started speaking. “We’re kind of in the middle of something right now,” he sighed, casually running his hand up and down Quentin’s back.

Quentin wanted to lean into the touch, but Eliot pulled his hand away before he could. 

He immediately looked up with a pout.

_Come on, Q, put those puppy dog eyes Julia is always complaining about to good use._

An amused look flickered across Eliot’s face. He mouthed the word “needy” at him and all Quentin did was continue on with the puppy dog eyes. He most definitely was needy, but if Eliot _adored_ Quentin as much as he claimed to, then he should have no problem giving into his extremely crucial demands. 

_Touch me. Pretty please?_

“One second, Margo,” he said into the phone before muting it and setting it down on the ground beside him so he could focus all his attention on Quentin. 

Success. 

“Did you need something?” he raised his brows. He was clearly trying to come off as annoyed, but he was obviously happy. Quentin liked it when Eliot was happy. He liked it a lot. 

“You let go,” he replied simply. 

The puppy dog eyes and pout were still going strong. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Eliot laughed, tickling Quentin’s sides.

Quentin grinned, squirming a bit. “Stop it,” he whined. 

“Then be good while Daddy’s on the phone,” he chided playfully, giving Quentin’s tummy a gentle poke. 

Quentin’s heart rate picked up significantly. 

_Be good._

“Yes, Daddy,” he breathed out. It was as if it was a reflex. He didn’t even second guess the words before they slipped out of his mouth. 

A pleased expression took over Eliot’s face. 

_He_ did that. 

_He_ was the one to put that look on Eliot’s face.

All because he promised to be _good._

He wouldn’t let Eliot down. 

Nope.

Never. 

Eliot leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Quentin’s lips. He wanted to deepen it, make it last longer, but he restrained himself from doing so. It took everything he had not to bring the pout back as Eliot pulled away. Seriously, it was quite the struggle for him, but he did it.

Eliot smiled and patted his cheek lightly before leaning over to pick his phone back up and unmuting it. “Hey, sorry about that. I uh, had to check on the laundry.”

Quentin couldn’t stop himself from mouthing “liar,” with a cheeky little grin on his face. 

Eliot stuck his tongue out at him in response. 

Quentin sighed happily and adjusted his sitting position in Eliot’s lap so he could rest his cheek on Eliot’s chest, nuzzling his head beneath Eliot’s chin. At that point, he had completely tuned out the conversation Eliot was having. It’s not that he wasn’t interested. It was just that he was _more_ interested in the steady rhythm of Eliot’s heartbeat. 

His eyelids fluttered shut and smiled.

Before he knew it though, he felt both of Eliot’s arms wrap around him, giving him a squeeze. _That_ got his attention. 

“The girls finished their shopping early apparently, so we better get going,” Eliot sighed. 

“Oh. Okay,” Quentin replied softly, keeping his eyes shut. Instead of sitting up and getting out of Eliot’s grip as he should, all he did was attempt to cuddle closer to Eliot, needing to make the most of these last few moments together. 

“I know we didn’t finish our talk. We still have a lot of shit to discuss and we most definitely will do that another time, but before we go I just need you to know that I’m going to try my damn hardest to be more open with you. Okay, Q? Opening up is hard for me, and I know it’s not a walk in the park for you either, but we did good today, baby. I’m proud of us,” he said, rubbing Quentin’s arm in a soothing manner. 

Quentin finally forced his eyes open. Honestly, Quentin was pretty relieved that their conversation was cut short. He especially was happy that the whole “depression” part of the conversation had been dropped completely. Maybe it won’t ever come up again? That would be ideal. 

Quentin tilted his head up and smiled at Eliot, who was currently looking down at him. 

Eliot was so pretty to look at. 

It was hard to believe he was just _allowed_ to gaze up at him. 

How did he get so lucky?

“As much as I’d love to just sit here and stare into your beautiful eyes for hours, we really have to get going now, darling,” Eliot said with a sad smile.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Not interested. 

Not one bit.

He didn’t want to go. He’d much rather stay here with Eliot, even if that did mean more uncomfortable conversations to endure. It’s been a long day. He was tired. Being social didn’t sound fun in the slightest to him right now. 

“Don’t wanna."

“C’mon Q, you have to get up,” he murmured. “Julia’s not going to be here for much longer. Don’t you want to spend time with your friend?” he asked.

“No."

“Quentin,” Eliot laughed. “She came all this way to see you.”

“Wanna stay here with you instead.”

It almost looked as if Eliot was _blushing._ Quentin was obviously just seeing things though. 

Right?

“You’re very sweet,” Eliot whispered, cupping one of Quentin’s cheeks. 

He smiled brightly. 

Eliot smiled back. “I’ll be right there with you, though, okay?”

“Hmm, okay,” Quentin nodded, deciding maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

In the midst of them stepping through the front door to leave, Quentin noticed their landlord, Marina arguing with one of their neighbors. Marina was nice, usually. Kind of. Okay, very rarely. But she wasn’t _terrible._ Except when she was in a bad mood. Which was often. Pretty much every day. 

Quentin tugged on Eliot’s hand lightly. “Let’s take the stairs instead,” he suggested quietly, not wanting to pass by Marina in order to reach the elevator. 

“Uh, no way, sweetheart. I refuse to break a sweat,” Eliot argued, a bit too loud for Quentin’s liking.

_Oh no._

Marina’s head turned their way. 

_Thanks, El. You’ve awakened the beast._

He glared up at him. 

Eliot shrugged, unbothered. 

“Hey, assholes. Your rent was late this month. There’s a 50 dollar late fee, you know. Where is it?” she asked, leaning against the doorway as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her face was stone cold. 

“I’ll slip a check under your door tomorrow. We really gotta go, though. Bye!” Quentin said quickly before practically _dragging_ Eliot towards the elevator that someone was conveniently stepping out of just as Quentin pulled him inside. 

He repeatedly pressed the ground level button until the door shut. 

Eliot was laughing. 

_Hard._

It was one of those laughs where he was hunched over a bit, holding his stomach.

Quentin started to laugh too, leaning his head back against the wall of the elevator. 

“Thought you said you weren’t scared of her?” Eliot asked in between laughs.

“Okay so maybe she’s a little scary,” Quentin grinned. 

“Aww, baby. I’d protect you,” he cooed, taking two long strides so that his body was barely an inch away from Quentin’s.

Quentin gulped. 

“Promise?”

“Mhhhm. Promise,” Eliot murmured, leaning down to press his forehead against his. 

Quentin’s eyelids fluttered shut. 

If he just went on his tiptoes and reached up a teeny tiny bit, he could--

The elevator came to a halt and Eliot pulled away as the door opened. 

“Come on, if you think Marina’s scary, wait until you see Margo if we’re late.”

_____

When they reached the door, Quentin dropped Eliot’s hand and moved to the side in order to put a little bit of space between them. Okay, _a lot_ of space between them. He could feel Eliot staring him down as he then proceeded to anxiously wipe his sweaty palm on his jeans.

“Excuse me, but are you embarrassed of me?” Eliot jokingly asked.

“Never,” Quentin replied instantly. “I just, uhm, can we keep this between us for a bit? At least tonight?”

“Keep what exactly between us?” 

“You know…” Quentin trailed off, shifting his weight from one foot to another. 

“No Quentin, I don’t think I do. You’ll have to remind me?” Eliot was pouting, _adorably_. 

Is this what Quentin looked like he when utilized his own pout to get what he wanted? If so, he could definitely see why it worked. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from Eliot’s lips so he could focus on his eyes. 

“That we’re uh...dating?” Quentin squeaked out.

“We are? Well, this is certainly news to me,” Eliot quirked his head to the side. 

He was teasing him. 

Such an ass. 

But at the same time, they _hadn’t_ exactly agreed before that they were together. They kissed though, and they talked about _that thing_ a little bit _._ Oh God, what if Eliot _didn’t_ want to date him, though? 

“Stop overthinking,” Eliot murmured as he closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Quentin’s waist. “So you want to be my boyfriend, huh?” Eliot whispered, his eyes sparkling with something Quentin couldn’t exactly recognize, but he was pretty sure it was something good. “This might come as a shock, but I've never had a real boyfriend before. I’d very much like for you to be my first,” he added, his eyes flicking down to Quentin’s lips for a split second. 

_Kiss me._

_Kiss me._

_Kiss me._

“Please,” is all that slipped from Quentin’s lips. 

“Now I absolutely love the manners, but you’re going to have to give me a hint as to what you want.”

Quentin stayed quiet, too shy to elaborate on what he wanted. Hell, maybe it could even be considered a need in this very moment. Now that he knew that kissing Eliot wasn’t the most ridiculous, most out of reach concept in the world, it was all he could think about. 

He needed to stop being so goddamn needy before he scares El away. 

“Nevermind,” he mumbled. 

“Q,” Eliot sighed. “I thought we were going to try and be honest with each other, hmm?” 

“It's hard."

“I know,” Eliot said as he pulled Quentin into a hug. “Believe me, I know.” 

Quentin happily hugged back. Eliot’s hugs were the _best._ Julia’s were good too, but her hugs had nothing on Eliot’s. He’d obviously never tell her that because that’d be rude as hell, but it was true. Facts were facts.

“Come on, let’s go in,” Eliot murmured as he pulled away from the hug. He didn’t completely break contact with Quentin though due to the fact that he had slid his hand into Quentin’s. 

In response, Quentin, for the second time that night, dropped his hand and took a step away. 

A smidgen of hurt flashed across Eliot’s face.

“You seriously aren’t going to let me come near you all night?"

“It’s just for tonight. I don’t want Julia making a big deal,” he explained quickly. 

Margo and Eliot obviously liked to embarrass him sometimes (mostly Margo), but he had learned to tolerate it and (sort of) get over it. Julia on the other hand was on an entirely different level. If Quentin walked in, hand in hand with _Eliot_ of all people, she would make it her goal to make Quentin blush nonstop, which he simply was just not in the mood for tonight. 

Also, he was beyond pissed at her about what she said to Eliot, so, she didn’t have the right to embarrass him.

“So, we’re secret boyfriends for the night? How kinky,” Eliot grinned.

Quentin rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he started to reach out to knock on the door. 

Eliot stopped him, though. 

“Hold on a sec,” he murmured before reaching over to cup one of Quentin’s cheeks with his hand. 

_Finally._

And then Eliot’s lips were on his. 

Soft and sweet.

Gone too quick. 

Quentin let out a pathetic sound as Eliot pulled away. 

“Hey, no complaining. _You’re_ the one who’s making this night awful for us. Not me,” he said, and before Quentin could protest, Eliot knocked on the door. 

The door swung open to reveal who Quentin assumed to be Josh. “Eliot! Good to see you,” he grinned before turning his attention to Quentin, who was anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to another. “You must be Quentin. It’s really great to meet you, man. Margo literally fawns over you all the time,” he said, ushering the two of them inside. 

“Hey! Stop making me seem soft!” Margo called out from the kitchen. 

Quentin was starting to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

It was a feeling he was starting to have more and more lately.

It felt good to have people who care about him. Sure there was Julia, but after tomorrow she’d be gone again. When she first told him she was moving, Quentin was terrified of being on his own. But he wasn't on his own. He had Eliot and Margo, both relationships were quite an unexpected surprise, but a happy one. _Especially_ his friendship Margo.

_____

~ _Early May~_

_Quentin woke up to the sound of pounding at the front door. “What the fuck?” he grumbled, turning to take a look out the window. The sun was barely up. Who the hell was bothering them at this hour? Oh God, was it Marina? Rent wasn’t even due yet, what could she possibly want?_

_He ungracefully pulled on a pair of sweatpants before heading towards the door._

_Instead of Marina, he was greeted by a bored-looking Margo (Thank you, Jesus)._

_Her face brightened ever so slightly as she took in the view before her. “Well hello there,” she smirked, looking him up and down._

_Quentin should have put a shirt on._

_“Uhm, hi,” he said shyly back to her._

_He took a small step to the side as she sort of just barged her way in._

_“El’s still sleeping? Our nail appointment is in 20 minutes,” she frowned._

_“Nail appointment? Margo it’s like 7 in the morning."_

_“It’s 7:40, sweetheart,” she said, patting the top of his head as if he were a dog._

_Rude._

_“My nail girl likes to work mornings. She’s one of the best in the city, so who am I to complain?” she shrugged, making her way towards the kitchen. “If I wake El up now, he won’t be ready in time. His morning routine is even longer than mine,” she muttered, leaning against the kitchen counter._

_Suddenly her gaze was back on him. It felt predatory._

Please don’t eat me. 

_“How fast can you get ready?” she asked curiously, biting down on her pretty pink lip._

_His eyes widened. “Oh no. No no no. No thank you, Margo,” he quickly said, rubbing the back of his neck._

_“Oh come on, you’re so visibly tense that you’re making_ me _tense_. _You could benefit from a little pampering,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest._

_He thought about it for a moment._

_Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?_

_“Fine,” he finally said. “But I’m only getting a clear coat. No colors."_

_Quentin did not just get a clear coat._

_Oh fucking well._

_The nail tech insisted. He couldn’t say no. It would have been impolite._

_(Okay, so not exactly how things went. He actually saw Margo picking out this pretty baby pink nail polish and he felt severely left out, so... )_

_“We’re going to look so cute with our matching nails. El’s going to be jealous,” Margo grinned._

_They were sitting side by side as the nail techs buffed their nails. The lady working on his kept grumbling about how horrible his cuticles were. Margo sure was getting a kick out of it._

_“Uh, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure he’s going to just be pissed when he wakes up and realizes you ditched him,” he told her with a frown._

_“Oh shush. It’s his own fault. He should have set an alarm.”_

_Well, she had a point there._

_To be fair, Quentin was sort of enjoying himself. It was nice spending time with Margo. He hasn’t seen her at all since that first night when Eliot moved in._

_“So are you and El going to bang or what?” she asked bluntly._

_The two nail techs exchanged similar looks with each other._

_Quentin’s face went bright red._

_“I’m sorry, what?” he sputtered out._

_“You heard me. All he ever does is talk about how adorable you are. It’s honestly kind of gross.”_

_That couldn't possibly be true._

_Could it?_

_“Even if he does think I’m adorable or whatever, that doesn’t mean we’re going to...ya know,” he said sheepishly._

_“Have the best steamy sex of your life?” she finished the sentence for him._

_He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, uhm. That.”_

_Quentin most certainly agreed that sex with Eliot would in fact be the best he had ever had and probably would ever have. Such a thing would obviously never happen though, despite what Margo thinks. Just the thought of it was ridiculous._

_“Well, just know if you want it, I’m almost positive Eliot would be down,” she shrugged._

_Quentin didn’t do one night stands. Hypothetically, if they did in fact sleep together, could it even be considered a one night stand when you live with the guy? How awkward would that be? How would that even work?_ _They’d have sex and then the next day exchange pleasantries like nothing ever happened?_

_Why was he even concerned?_

_It's not gonna happen._

_He needed to get over it. Fast._

_Quentin looked down at his finished nails. It almost didn’t look like he had any polish on because the color was so light. He still liked it though._

_“_ _Aww baby, you look so cute.” Margo cooed._

_“Thanks.” he smiled happily as they walked up to the counter to pay._

_“My treat,” Margo smiled, taking her credit card out of her purse._

_A few minutes later as they were walking through the city back towards their apartments, Margo suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk._

_“This is the perfect lighting for a photo. Take one of me?” she asked, pulling out her phone._

_“Oh, uhm, sure?”_

_(Margo did look pretty spectacular in this lighting. Quentin couldn’t deny it.)_

_He held the phone up a bit and was immediately displeased. “Hold on a sec,” he said, crouching down slightly in order to get a different angle. Much better. He snapped a couple of pictures before he was satisfied._

_“I hope they’re okay. I tried,” he told her as he nervously held out the phone towards her._

_Her face lit up as she scrolled through the photos._

_“Damn I look good,” she said, delighted. “Eliot would never get on the ground to get a better angle. Would get his pants dirty,” she scoffed._

_"Well, his clothes are much nicer than mine. So I kind of see his point,” he pointed out with a shrug._

_“Whose side are you on, Coldwater?” she asked in a threatening tone, jabbing his chest with her delicate pointer finger._

_“Uh, whoever I’m currently talking to? So I guess yours right now?”_

_She laughed. “El was right, you_ are _a brat.”_

_Quentin tried his hardest not to blush, but he failed._

_“_ _C’mon_ _bratty boy, take a selfie with me to commemorate the start of our beautiful friendship,” she told him, pulling him close._

_“I hate selfies,” he grumbled, trying to get out of her death grip._

_“Too bad,” she said, holding up her phone. “Now smile, you brat.”_

_He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Margo snapped the photo._

_“Perfect,” she smiled, satisfied. “Now_ _come on_ _, let’s go get some lunch.”_

_______

“So the pizza should be here soon,” Josh told them as he led the pair into the living room. 

“Hey, are you feeling better Q?” Julia asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Much,” is all Quentin told her. “How’d the shopping go?”

“It went great. Margo found the perfect dress for me,” Julia said with a smile. “It’s upstairs in the guest room, hanging up. I can show it to you if you’d like?”

That was 100% code for ‘Let’s talk?’ Uhm. No thanks. Not right now. Not at all in the mood for that. 

Eliot, his sweet sweet Eliot came to his rescue, sensing his discomfort. (How did he do that? Was that like a superpower of his or something?)

“Hey Q, can you help Margo and me in the kitchen with something for a bit?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” he called out before turning his attention back to Julia. “Sorry, Jules. You can show me later tonight when we get home?” he suggested and she just nodded, a little sadly. “Alright,” she said softly.

He stepped into the kitchen to see Margo and Eliot chatting. “Thank you,” he said, beyond relieved.

“See. Told you I’d protect you, no matter what,” Eliot stated proudly, pulling Quentin into a warm embrace. “I don’t need protecting from Julia,” he snickered, but still hugged Eliot back because who could possibly deny a hug from Eliot?

“Shh, just let me take care of you,” he murmured, swaying Quentin a bit.

“Okay,” he mumbled back.

“Well aren’t you two cute,” Margo observed.

“Shut up Margo,” he boldly told her, attempting to pull away from the hug, but Eliot refused. 

“Hey, I wasn’t finished,” Eliot told him. 

“You’re embarrassing me,” he whined.

“Good,” he said, stroking Quentin’s hair soothingly, knowing exactly what to do to make Quentin compliant.

He sighed. 

“Okay, well as much as I love watching your weird touch-starved foreplay, I’m going to walk away now,” Margo said. 

Quentin looked at her with a pleading look. “No, you can’t. Julia thinks I’m helping you with something in here.”

“You can’t hide from her all night, Quentin,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, I most certainly can.”

“She’s your best friend and she’s leaving soon. Who cares if she’s a little weird about you and Eliot dating? Get over it.”

“Hey. You said you wouldn’t tell.” Quentin glared up at Eliot. 

“He didn’t, but you just confirmed it,” Margo shrugged. 

“ _Oh no_ , I guess the cat’s out of the bag. This is the _worst,_ ” Eliot said in mock horror before pecking Quentin on the lips lightly. 

“I hate you both,” Quentin groaned, getting out of Eliot’s grip before heading back into the living room. 

He knew avoiding talking to Julia was a little childish, but he honestly didn't care. He would force himself to talk to her tonight, though. He just didn’t want to risk having an argument at Margo’s place. A nice night was all he wanted. Was that too much to ask for?

“So what are we watching?” he asked curiously as he sat down beside Julia. 

“Uh, I think it's a historical drama? I don't know. Margo picked it out,” Josh explained as he placed the pizza that had just arrived down on the coffee table. 

“You want some wine or a beer or something?” Josh asked Q and Julia gave him a look. “You had some last night,” she reminded him in a hushed tone. 

He rolled his eyes.

“Could I just have some water?”

“No problem,” Josh nodded. 

“You know, I’m an adult, right? I can make my own decisions,” he told her with a glare. 

“I know, Q. I’m trying to look out for you, though,” she said, attempting to defend herself. 

He knew she meant well, but fuck could she be overbearing. It was suffocating. 

“I had 2 drinks last night and I was completely _fine_ ,” he told her.

“But your therapist said--”

“What my therapist said is none of your business, Julia.”

“Well, clearly it is, considering I was literally on your--"

“And I took you _off_ for a reason, didn’t I?” he snapped, cutting her off just as Josh walked back in with his drink. He could obviously sense the tension in the room, and he most likely wanted to escape it. “Here you go. I’m going to go find Margo and Eliot, tell them the food’s getting cold,” he said.

“Can we just have a nice time tonight? Please? You’re leaving soon,” Quentin sighed, leaning his head on her shoulder in defeat. 

“Yes, please,” she replied, grabbing his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers together. “You know I just care about you, right?”

“I know,” he told her just as everyone else stepped into the room. 

Eliot ended up respecting Quentin’s wishes and kept his distance from him, which he had mixed feelings about. Yeah, it was what he asked for, but he missed him, despite the fact that he was only 3 feet away, sitting on the other couch with Margo and Josh. 

He couldn’t stop himself from sending Eliot these pathetic looks of longing throughout the movie. Eliot was sending them right back.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Eliot said suddenly, picking up the remote to pause the movie. 

Margo groaned. “But this is the best part!” she protested. 

Eliot shrugged and stood up. He glanced over in Quentin’s direction and mouthed ‘kitchen’ to him. 

_Oh!_

“I’ll take the dishes to the kitchen,” Quentin announced a bit too eagerly. 

Margo rolled her eyes. Julia and Josh were scrolling through their phones, not really paying attention. Eliot on the other hand was clearly holding in a laugh as he turned to walk away. 

He was leaning against the counter as Quentin stepped into the kitchen with everyone’s plates.

“Well hello there,” Eliot smiled as Quentin placed the plates into the sink. 

“Hi,” he replied quietly, turning to look up at him. 

“Enjoying the movie?” he asked.

Quentin shrugged. “It's okay, I guess.”

“Just okay? Why’s that?” he asked with a small pout. 

“You know why,” he grumbled, looking down at the ground. 

“Hmm, maybe I do. I want to hear you say it, though.”

“Wanna cuddle,” he whispered, still not looking at Eliot. 

“Aww, you want to sit on Daddy’s lap and be held again?”

He felt his whole body go slightly weak. 

He nodded sadly. 

“Sweetheart,” he cooed.

Quentin slowly peaked up. 

Eliot took a step forward and cupped both of Quentin’s cheeks. His hands were so warm. It was comforting. 

_Safe._

“We can cuddle tonight in my bed after you and Julia talk, okay? Would you like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“Yes, what?” Eliot asked, his thumb brushing over Quentin’s lower lip lightly. 

He squirmed a bit and tried to look away, but Eliot wouldn’t let him. 

“ _Q._ ”

“Yes, Daddy,” Quentin told him shyly, his cheeks heating up. 

“Such a good boy,” he praised, pressing a sweet kiss to Quentin’s forehead. 

Quentin sighed, feeling a sense of contentment.

“Ready to go back out there?”

He nodded. 

Everyone looked a little bit bored when they walked back into the living room. “Sorry for taking so long. I ended up helping Quentin load the dishwasher. I know you’re particular about how you like the dishes situated,” Eliot explained as he sat back down beside Margo on the couch. 

Quentin let himself look one last time at Eliot before getting comfortable next to Julia.

Eliot noticed right away and had the nerve to _wink_ at him before picking up the remote to resume the movie. 

Fuck.

_____

“So, Josh seems nice,” Julia said thoughtfully as they walked back to the apartment.

Quentin was in the middle of the two of them. Every once and a while he would feel Eliot’s hand brush up against his and he wanted to just grab it, but he couldn't. If he wasn’t such a big baby he could have been touching Eliot all night. Instead, he put himself through misery (Yes, he was absolutely _miserable_ without Eliot’s touch. He wasn’t being dramatic. Okay, yes he most definitely was, but he didn’t care.), all because he was scared of talking to his best friend. 

“He’s pretty cool,” Quentin agreed. 

“Margo and I have known him for years. He’s a good guy,” Eliot chimed in. 

“How did you meet?” she asked curiously.

“Oh, he was our dealer in undergrad,” he said with a grin, as he opened the door to the apartment.

The three of them talked for a bit longer as they greeted Teddy. It was late though, and all of them were obviously pretty tired. Julia ended up saying goodnight before heading into Q's room so she could get ready for bed, leaving the two boys alone for the first time in a couple of hours. 

“So you’re going to talk to her tonight, right?” 

“I mean,” Quentin trailed off, scratching behind Teddy's ear. The dog suddenly seemed bored of all the attention though, considering he got up and just scampered into the kitchen. 

“Quentin.” 

“Yes. Fine. We’ll talk.” 

“And then you’re going to come to bed with me,” Eliot stated.

Quentin smiled. 

_Obviously._

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

_____

After Eliot took Teddy for his walk, he decided to do some tidying up whilst he waited for Quentin. This was part of his typical nightly routine. After Q would head to sleep, he’d spend a bit of time cleaning up the boy’s mess throughout the apartment. Eliot _hated_ waking up clutter. He struggled to comprehend how Quentin could possibly tolerate it. 

He snickered, picking up a book that was laying in the middle of the living room where someone could easily trip over it. He glanced down at the title, feeling a little bit curious. 

_Fillory and Further._

The kids book?

He glanced around the room, it was tidy enough for him to be finished for the night. 

As he sat down on the couch, he casually flipped through the pages. Fantasy wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, but if Q liked it, it couldn’t be that bad, right? He was just about to turn back to page one when he noticed a loose page near the end of the book.

He took a closer look and realized it wasn’t a loose page at all. It was a letter that had been wedged into the book like a bookmark. 

He carefully pulled it out in order to take a closer look. 

It was addressed to...Margo?

_Interesting._

He took a peek over at the door to Quentin’s bedroom. 

It was still shut. 

He had some time.

His gaze found its way back to the letter. The paper was fragile. Eliot was slightly worried it would crumble to pieces in his hands, but he couldn't stop himself from unfolding it. He was far too nosy for his own good.

Quentin wouldn't mind, though. 

He didn’t even get past the first sentence before his eyebrows furrowed. 

Quentin’s handwriting?

He’d recognize that awful chicken scratch anywhere.

Why the hell was Q writing Margo a letter?

His brand new boyfriend better not be writing kinky old-timey love letters to his best friend. 

_You’re not funny, Eliot._

He tried to continue onto the second sentence, but he just couldn’t.

He felt as if he were intruding. 

_Stop reading, El. Personal space is crucial. This isn’t any of your business._

Eliot was going to neatly place the letter back into the last chapter of the book, exactly where he had found it. Really, he was. _However_ , just as he was refolding the delicate pages, he noticed a bit of neater writing at the bottom of the page in a different medium compared to the ink Quentin had used. 

Eliot felt a wave of nausea hit him as he read the words. 

Why did he suddenly feel like the world was crashing down around him?

Had Quentin _seen_ this? 

Obviously not. He _couldn’t_ have.

But if Quentin wrote the letter then he would have--

It was right _there._

But it wasn't--

This was all wrong. 

He frantically flipped through the book to see where Q had last bookmarked the page.

He was only on page 87.

So, he probably hadn’t seen it, right?

Right. 

He slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the coffee table, wanting to pretend he had never even laid eyes on the thing. But he _had_ seen the book. He’d _touched_ it. He’d _opened_ it. He felt like his life was _destroyed_ because of it. 

He shoved the letter into his pocket and hurried out onto the balcony.

Eliot gripped the railing as he took a few deep, shaky breaths in. 

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

_It’s definitely real._

Fuck.

A small little bark captured his attention. Teddy had followed him outside and he was just sitting there, his cute little head tilted to the side. His expression almost seemed concerned. 

Eliot gave him a pained look, flinching as the dog barked again. Eliot quickly looked away, focusing his attention on one of the streetlamps below on the side of the road. 

This is beyond ridiculous.

He truly was losing his mind. 

Eliot desperately needed to get his shit together, though. If not for himself, at least do it for Quentin.

Q needed him. He needed to be strong. _Especially_ now. 

Teddy stayed with him until he calmed down a bit. Eliot crouched down and gave the dog a pet. “Sorry for worrying you, buddy,” he murmured. 

Eliot headed back inside and took the letter that he would very much like to burn out of his pocket. He stepped into his bedroom and took a good look around the room, wondering where he could possibly stash it so that Quentin wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it. He ended up opting for the top shelf of his closet. Quentin wasn’t exactly short, but he was compared to Eliot. He doubted he could reach up there. 

He let out a small sigh of relief as he leaned up against the now shut closet door. If Eliot couldn’t see it, then it surely didn’t exist. Right? Right. Eliot truly was a master at repressing shit. If anyone could do this, it was him.

Thinking a shower could help ease his mind, he made his way towards the bathroom. By the time he had finished up and gone back into his room, he was greeted by the oh so pleasant sight of Quentin Coldwater innocently sitting on his bed, playing a game on his phone.

Eliot smiled fondly as he leaned his head up against the door frame. 

Such a pretty view.

The _best_ view.

“Hey,” he said after a moment. 

Quentin startled as he quickly looked up from his phone. 

“Oh, hi,” he responded with a shy smile. 

_So gorgeous._

His body seemed relaxed. 

Eliot was jealous. 

“I take it the talk with Julia went well?” he asked as he walked towards the bed.

Quentin shrugged. “It was okay. Still a little mad at her, but I’ll get over it,” he said with an adorable little yawn. 

“Tired?” Eliot asked, gently prying the phone out of Quentin’s hands so he could place it on the bedside table. Quentin nodded, looking up at him. 

He climbed into the bed and layed down on his side. Quentin's back was pressed up against his chest within moments. Eliot smiled, carefully draping an arm over the boy's waist.

He felt so much better already. He sighed softly in relief. This felt nice. 

It felt _right._

“You okay?” Quentin asked softly. 

“Much better now. Just missed you,” he mumbled quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Quentin’s neck, letting his lips linger there for a few short seconds. 

He was doing it again. Quentin had just poured his heart out to him today, _begging_ Eliot to be more open with him. He promised he would. He promised he would _try._ But it was scary and Eliot was a fucking coward. 

_Just tell him._

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Truly the perfect start to a relationship. 

A foundation full of lies.

_You’re such an asshole, El._


End file.
